


Revive

by LaviniaCrist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne-centric, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 55
Words: 81,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaviniaCrist/pseuds/LaviniaCrist
Summary: Revive is to come back to life, to remember what happened and renew in a better version. Everything reconciled for Damian to relive, to experience the life of a normal boy, with a normal family, in a normal world. Damian revived, leaving Robin dead.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Selina Kyle & Damian Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 141





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Reviver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164539) by [LaviniaCrist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaviniaCrist/pseuds/LaviniaCrist). 



Bruce Wayne, the American billionaire, philanthropist, a true business tycoon: the Prince of Gotham.

The writers who described him like that in the news columns would never have imagined his secret life, the one he keeps with zeal away from anyone but his closest friends: his personal life. In it, he was far from being a businessman, he was more like an owl father watching his son sleep.

— I am still surprised when I meet you inside the mansion in the middle of the night, Master Bruce... — commented the butler, disguising a simple smile seeing his “son” become a patriarch.

— I can't leave him alone, Alfred — He said, nestling his son between pillows and under blankets.

— He won't be alone...

— But it will be far from me.

— Yes, as all children occasionally stay away from their parents. — The eldest sighed — I never imagined that I would say that, however: you need to stop being an overprotective father, Damian must have his own space.

— I was away when he needed me.

— Master Bruce, there is no reason to... — Before Alfred could finish, he was interrupted by words in martyrdom:

— I was far! Far! — He crouched down next to the stretcher where Damian was prostrate — I've been away from him ever, Alfred! — He carefully held the boy's right hand, he was shaking — That's why my son is like that!

The butler fell silent.

There was no justification for the state that poor child was in. Or rather, the only justification is that everyone had failed him, including Robin himself.

— Damian has revived once, he can and will do it again.

— How, Alfred? It's been months since he... — Bruce couldn't finish, the taste of bitterness and guilt took over him whenever he spoke of the fragile state in which his son was.

— Trust him — the butler put a hopeful smile on his face, approaching — Trust that this time he will not take the same right steps in the wrong ways, that he will do everything differently.

— If that happens, Alfred... — He held his son's hand a little tighter — If this really happens I promise to be a different father. I will relive with my son, Bruce Wayne that everyone knows will die and relive being a good father.


	2. Obliterate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below are some explanations:
> 
> Damian Wayne is the central point of the story, sometimes dragging other characters like: Alfred Pennyworth, a big butler; Bruce Wayne, Batman; Richard John Grayson, Dick, who was the first Robin and is now the Nightwing; Jason Peter Todd, who was the second Robin and is now Red Hood; etc. Some characters are fixed in Wayne Mansion and especially in Gotham and some will make sporadic appearances (which can last for days or a few hours), such as Dick, Jason, Jon and Barbara.
> 
> The fanfic is not concerned with exploring “empty spaces” in the canonical plots of each character, it is only inspired by some points without chronological order, and that do not harm the understanding.

Opening the eyes was an arduous task, mainly because he couldn't tell if they were open or closed. Once it was understood that everything was shrouded in darkness, it was possible to notice a close silhouette and, regardless of whether that figure was friendly, the boy tried to ask for help — all he got, however, was a low growl.

— God, you're waking up... — There was a mixture of concern and disbelief in the voice — Master Richard, he is awaking up! — The voice announced loudly as he walked away.

Seconds later, another person appeared. The latter took him by the shoulders as he whispered confused things and celebrated:

— You're awake! Finally awake!

— I'll inform Master Bruce right now! — communicated to the other and, while fiddling with the cell phone, finally the face of that silhouette was clearly visible.

— Hey, Alfred, isn't it better to let Damian talk to him himself?

— It is better not to leave him so... _**emotional**_ , at least not in the middle of one of those important meetings. — The butler put his cell phone down and stared at the boy, still immobile — When the meeting is over, your father will look at the message and come right away, Master Damian.

— As if! — Dick finally released his brother — He didn't even want to go, he wanted to be here when you woke up, boy. I bet he must have read the message and is already coming here!

The two were silent. They wanted some celebration, confirmation or even an answer from the younger boy. But nothing happened, Damian just tried to make out their silhouette in the frightening shadows that surrounded him.

— Hey, Damian?

The little one tried to say something and, at the cost of nonsense grunts and murmurs, there was finally an answer, or rather, a question:

— Who?

— It must be the effect of sedatives... — the elder commented.

— Must be...

— Wh-oo... you... Da-amian? — The boy tried again, doing a little better despite the inhalation mask.

— It no longer seems to me to be the effect of sedatives! — Alfred noted and distanced himself from them, he seemed concerned.

— Are you wondering who I am, is that it? How do you forget your favorite brother, boy? — Dick laughed at his own joke attempt, trying to remain optimistic.

— Who I am? — Finally a complete question was said, with difficulties, but said.

— Enough being dramatic, Damian... — He ruffled the young man's spiky hair — I know you're trying to escape the guilt for what you did, but we are all worried about you! It was stupid to try to act alone, as you always do. Of course, you will have a punishment, but the important thing now is that you are awake and...

— Who I am!? — The boy was confused, bordering on despair. Trying to understand all that information didn't help, and it made it even worse.


	3. Restart

— Master Bruce, better take off your uniform and listen to me! — the butler asked for the fifth time while following the bat hero through the halls of the mansion.

— After I talk to my son, Alfred...

Bruce was not ignoring all of Pennyworth's warnings and requests for evil, he was just letting his father's side speak louder — even screaming. They had spent days with Damian waiting for him to wake up or at least improve his condition.

— You need to understand that he is not totally...!

— Alfred, I **need** to hear my son's voice! — Batman replied, already with his hand on the door handle. However, before he could open and enter, it was Richard Grayson who opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

— It is better to take off that uniform before entering, B... — the boy said without even trying to hide all the discouragement he was feeling.

Finally accepting that something was wrong, Batman turned and went to the bedroom to change clothes. Alfred even took a few steps towards him, but it was Dick who followed him to try to explain what was going on.

— Alfred thinks it's Dissociative Amnesia. When he woke up, I thought it was just a bad joke... damn it! — He looked out the bedroom window, blaming himself for making Damian even more nervous in the beginning — He doesn't remember anything.

— He better not remember what happened...

— Bruce, he doesn't remember **anything**.

The older man stared at him, finishing removing the accessories. He was silent for a few moments and even seemed to ignore what he heard, but finally asked:

— How much is nothing?

— **Absolutely nothing**. — Dick ran a hand through his hair — We tried to explain who he was, but it only made it worse! I thought it would be easy, but just listening to "Robin", he had a panic attack and...!

— And how is he now? — Bruce interrupted him with the question, after wearing a bulky overcoat hiding his uniform underneath.

— He doesn't remember anything, not even that he had woken up before... — the boy sighed again — Alfred said it is wiser to let him remember alone and gradually.

Batman, or rather, Bruce Wayne didn't say anything else. He left the room and walked as quietly as he could with his polished shoes, he was dressed like a businessman who had just come home.

Once again he had his hand on the doorknob, this time opening it and entering his son's room. Damian was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and surrounded by pillows — including one where his fractured leg rested. He was flipping through the Wayne Family photo album.

— Son... — Bruce called him in a low timbre, wondering why he wasn't noticed as soon as he entered — Son, how are you feeling?

— Master Bruce, you will have to speak a little closer... — Alfred informed without taking his eyes off the child, was standing by the door — The hearing was very impaired, he complains constantly.

The man approached the bed, but was not really noticed by Damian until he sat on the nearest edge. The first reaction he had was fear, which was soon replaced by strangeness and even shyness.

— Son, how are you feeling? — Bruce asked again, a little louder than the first time.

— I-I? — The boy stared at him for a few seconds trying to understand what they were talking about and, as soon as he realized, looked down feeling even more out of place — I'm better...

— That's great, son — Zealous, he ruffled the youngest boy's hair — I really wanted to be here when you woke up, but I had a meeting.

— They already explained to me about it. Thanks anyway... — still shy, Damian replied staring at the photo album again.

— Alfred, is Damian being understanding and polite at the same time?

— Yes, Master Bruce.

— And he wants nothing in return?

— I don't think so, Master Bruce.

— How long will we have this kind of my son? — Again, he ruffled Damian's hair with the utmost care. The youngest stared at him, still shy, but smiling.

— Aren't you angry with me? — the boy asked.

— I should be?

— ... I thought it would stay, because I don't remember you, sir.

— I'm not going to be irritated by something like that, Damian — Bruce smiled, getting a little closer to his son — How about calling me "father" instead of "sir"?

— As you wish, sir... father! As you wish, father! — hastily retracted.

— It's a good restart — It was impossible to prevent a laughter principle from escaping, even Damian found himself amused — How about leaving the old photos aside and listening to his antics? — Receiving a positive and very enthusiastic nod, he got even closer to his son and placed the album between the two, showing one of the first photos of Damian in the mansion — Here: that day you ran away from home and went to meet me at the company. When I entered my office you were there, sitting in my chair, saying that someone was embezzling money in the Argentine sector...

Alfred stayed by the door, watching them with a simple smile. The butler could hardly believe that Bruce was doing so well in maintaining that aura of “calm and composure” due to the situation, he was really trying hard to be a good father.

Damian listened carefully to the stories, whose "details" were hidden. It only took three until sleep overcame curiosity by itself, after all, it still had some active effects from sedatives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Alfred is the only employee of the Wayne mansion, so there is no problem with Batman walking through the corridors. Are you having trouble accepting this? Believe with all your heart, just like I do, kkks. Well, Batman and Catwoman usually date on other people's roofs and have never been caught by a security camera...  
> Note: Batman at the end refers to what Damian did in the animation “The Son of Batman”. In fact, he also says that he only has Alfred as an employee, or rather, a friend.  
> Note of note: it is also in this animation in which Alfred says he is rooting for the bushes, when Damian is slaughtering them in training in the morning (I do not remember whether or not there is something similar in the comics).


	4. Fault

Bruce Wayne was in his office. He had spent the whole night there practically — just going out to change and eat something at Alfred's insistence. In the morning, he was already confronted with the harsh reality stated by Pennyworth:

— It's only a matter of time before he recovers, staying that way doesn't change the facts.

— It's my fault, Alfred...

— Master Bruce... — the butler asked again, placing the breakfast tray in front of him.

— The fault is mine! — He rested his face on his hands — While my son was dying where **I** was!?

— Saving the world with the Justice League, I assume.

— The Justice League manages to save the world without me, Damian needed help! It was **days** , Alfred! **Days** until I accepted the idea that my son **desappears** and that something **bad** could happen to him! — He got up, he was too angry and didn't want coffee stains on the floor.

— He often "disappears". Nobody would expect the worst, especially in relation to Master Damian — Alfred tried to mitigate, but he also felt guilty.

— What kind of father am I, Alfred!? What am I doing with my own son's life!? From my kids!?

— You're giving them a chance.

— ... They don't need a chance, they need a father! — Bruce sighed, thinking of all the neglect with which he had raised his "children".

— And you are their father!

— I'm a bad father, Alfred, and I don't know how to become a better one! — He pointed, disappointed with himself — Last night I was away while my son was having a panic attack. I've been gone for most of his life, I've been gone when Dick needed me, Jason, Tim...

Before the butler managed to say anything to get the boss out of that state of mourning — which always tends to go from bad to worse — knocking on the door kept them both silent. It was not common for younger people to warn before entering since, normally, when they needed to enter there it was for an important reason.

— In between! — Wayne authorized, letting out a smile when the door was opened:

Dick was carrying Damian on his back, it was one of the best ways he had found carrying the youngest without causing discomfort due to the cast on his leg.

— How are you feeling today, Master Damian? — Alfred asked.

— Much better, thank you! — the boy replied with a friendly smile.

— I don't think I'll ever get used to you saying "thank you" — Bruce commented with an air of hope about good manners persisting, even after the memories are recovered. Carefully, he helped Dick to put the youngest seated in the same chair he had been sitting on before.

— Hey, Damian, why don't you tell your dad why you're not using the crutches? — Dick encouraged. He smirked, indicating that there was something behind a simple request.

— Because I'm too short to use those. — As asked, the boy replied. Everyone was silent and he was already beginning to think he had said something wrong. He tried to hide his face, shy, mainly because he had everyone's eyes on him, everyone was still "strangers".

— I know the kid saying this is a reality shock, but we need to take advantage of it before he gets back to normal! — Dick ruffled his hair carefully, he knew that the wound on Damian's stiff head was already healed, but it was almost instinctive to be careful with that region.

— He's not that short, he's a child yet... — Bruce tried to soften, which didn't take away from the fun of it all.

— Actually, he is already considered a teenager — Alfred corrected him, clearly remembering how much Damian insisted on the title.

— And how old am I? — the youngest asked without understanding all that conversation. In part, this lack of understanding was exacerbated by a constant ringing in the left ear.

— You have...

— Just a moment! — Dick interrupted the butler before he could answer — Damian made a list of important questions and wants B to answer them.

— And the first is your age, correct? — He looked at his son, unable to contain a smug smile.

The boy smiled and said, immediately:

— My brother was right, you are good at guessing things!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred refers to "disappearing frequently" because Damian tends to make his tantrums disappear by any means of communication and / or location. (Detective Comics, 1003 if I'm not mistaken / spent the entire summer vacation missing in the Super Sons special).  
> Bruce may seem a little too dramatic, but he tends to get a little "out of control" every time he loses one of his children. Couple that with his strenuous relationship with Catwoman (Batman number 44 onwards, Rebirth. She didn't show up at the wedding) and we will have an almost murderous Batman and a dramatic Bruce.


	5. Doubts

At Pennyworth's insistence, everyone was seated at the table with breakfast set. Damian gladly accepted the condition so that he could have his questions answered, which made the others accept without resistance as well.  
— So... — The boy took the sheet of paper from the pocket of his striped pajamas — How old am I?  
— Thirteen years old — Bruce replied, and shortly afterwards he started drinking his coffee.  
— But he usually behaves like a spoiled four-year-old or at the other extreme: like an old grouchy eighty-seven —Dick added, eliciting a shy smile from the youngest.  
— And... how old was I adopted?  
Bruce choked on his coffee.  
Dick cursed himself for not having read that list of questions before. He considered that handing a sheet of paper and a pencil to a child would have no problem, it would be a harmless activity — however, Damian would always be Damian.  
— Son... — the eldest started and coughed to try to clear his throat before finishing — Where did you get that from?  
— It's just that my brother doesn't call you father and in the album he only has pictures of us as children, I thought we were all adopted, especially because I'm not much like you... — the boy replied shyly, firing the words as fast as could — Excuse me? — He looked at his father with sadness on his face.  
— No need to apologize, your line of reasoning is correct — Bruce touched his hair, messing it up carefully — Your brothers are adopted, but you are my biological son.  
Shy, with red cheeks and feeling a little more out of place to talk about it, Damian dared to ask an even more complicated question:  
— And who is my mother?  
Bruce sighed and drank some more coffee, it would be a long morning. Dick cursed himself again, however, he preferred to run away: he got up with the fruit salad, making some excuse with his mouth full. Even Alfred, who was carrying a jar of juice, decided to go back to the kitchen when he heard the question.  
At this point, Damian had tears in his eyes thinking that he had said something very, very wrong. He was already uncomfortable with everything that was said about him — mainly because he seemed to be “rude”, a pest with no limits whatsoever — asking two bad questions could sound like something on purpose, even without being.  
— Dad, sorry? — he asked almost without a voice — II didn't mean it badly, I swear!  
— Okay, Damian — The father sighed and smiled to try to reassure him — It's just a delicate matter. His mother was never a good person and had a complicated life, with a complicated family... — There was no way to explain that he came from a clan of murderers, Bruce thought — ... Even though he was not an exemplary father before, it is better that you stay with me and away from what they think is right.  
— I think I understand... — the boy spoke softly, without the courage to face his father — Excuse me?  
— For what, son?  
— Make trouble...  
— Your mother being the way she is is not your fault. — He ruffled Damian's spiky hair again — It's a complicated issue, but I'm very proud that you're not like her. — The boy took advantage of the affection, he was already calmer and smiling again. One of his changes, the most drastic: the smile was almost constant.  
— Dad... — he called when Bruce ended the affection to continue drinking coffee — What do I like to do?  
— Reading — After thinking about it, the elder added: — Reading, playing with animals...  
— And I have pets!? — The boy smiled, going from one end to the other and his eyes sparkled.  
— A cat, two dogs, a cow... — Talking about Goliath was out of the question, he thought.  
— Can I go and meet them? Please? Please!?  
— Only after breakfast, son...  
The boy confirmed, starting to eat as fast as he could. The questions would be left for later, apparently. Despite not remembering anything, Damian maintained a love for animals. Keeping at least some traits like before was already encouraging in that whole situation.  
Bruce would take time to get used to his son's new ways. Before, Damian acted as he wished, without giving any satisfaction and much less asking for permission, but this new “version” asked for everything, something that at one time or another would be a problem due to the lack of autonomy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian's mother is called Talia al Gul, the daughter of Ra’s al Gul. I don't really consider her a villain, at least not on the same level as many others in the DC universe. Usually it is more like a person who "thinks he is doing right, doing everything wrong".  
> Note: in the animation Son of the Demon, Talia asks Damian to stay with Batman and learn from him, because he is wise, then she leaves the scene in a submarine. In one of Damian's origin stories, this submarine ends up exploding.


	6. Brothers

Dick was watching Damian from a distance. The boy was sitting on the lawn in the garden taking turns throwing a ball at Titus, the dog, and stroking the hair of little Pennyworth, the cat.  
The situation everyone was in was strangely satisfying: Damian was a normal child for the first time and the Wayne mansion was just that, a mansion. They didn't talk about secret lives, crimes, investigations, let alone comment on how bad Gotham could get if they continued to neglect him, because Gotham wasn't the center of everything at that moment.  
—You are not usually so distracted… — Jason commented when he was beside Richard. He kept his eyes on Ace, who, after welcoming him, went running to play with Damian too.  
— I was just thinking how strange it is to be normal in this family.  
— Did you really accept this memory loss thing?  
— There's nothing to accept... — the eldest sighed, partly disappointed that Jason had already drunk in the morning — Amnesia accompanied by a lot of post-traumatic stress, anxiety and blows too hard on the head, or a mixture of all that.  
— Whatever! — The other rolled his eyes — And will you simply accept, without even finding it suspicious that he has these crises of whatever, when there was talk about his own past, about being a Robin?  
— If you had seen..  
— You should have noticed that it could be something in his head, like a chip implanted by Gorilla Grodd! Or someone cloned the brat and put that version in place! Human flap, he's a strange guy! — For Jason, accepting any absurdity with a villain acting in the background was much easier than just reality: Damian's mind gave up.  
— Todd...  
— It's not just the Joker and Bane that make these sick shits! And let's face it, it's easy to hate Damian!  
— Todd! — The eldest hit him with a light punch in the arm — Stop saying that kind of thing, he can hear!  
Jason didn't strike back, just stopped talking for a few seconds and looked at the child sitting on the grass. Now the dogs were trying to compete for the ball thrown while the little cat was petted.  
— You said yourself that he is not listening properly...  
— So you read all the messages and decided to ignore them until it was convenient? — Dick hit him again with a punch to the arm, which was struck back by a simple push — Why didn't you come soon?  
— Because he was brainwashed, I thought it best to wait for him to return to normal.  
— He just lost his memories...  
— No, Dick! If he had lost his memories, he would have been the same pampered and angry little brat who fights with everyone. I still haven't heard the classic “tt” and he hasn't even come here to find out who the strange guy is who invaded the mansion, something he would do even if he were jumping on one foot...  
— I told you he lost his memory!  
— Nobody can forget how pain in the ass he is!  
— But he forgot! — Richard snapped, letting on that his patience was lacking — He forgot everything, everyone and even him, damn it!  
Jason didn't respond, or rather mumbled some curses as he walked over to Damian. Dick did not follow, he preferred to hope that shouting the current situation would put a little judgment in his head.  
— Damian... — he called, bending down beside the boy.  
— ... Yes?  
— You might even think you're going to trick me, but I'm not a sucker like Dick or B.  
— I-I... — Anguished and shy, the youngest struggled to look Todd in the eye — I'm not lying, I wanted to be, but I don't remember anything. I-I... I... — He stopped talking and put his hand over his ear and squeezed. The tinnitus was constant, but the pain always came in the worst hours.  
— Stop playing this game, Damian! You want everyone's attention to be a victim, but forget that everyone in this shit cares about you! Or do you think...! — Before Todd completed, he was punched in the jaw. After falling out of balance and almost sitting down, he got up and struck back. Dick dodged, which did not prevent the two from starting a fight in the middle of cursing and threats.  
Damian did not notice what was literally happening next to him: the buzz on the left side was louder, on the right side he no longer heard anything. Besides, the pain was being the center of focus, it was an agonizing, acute pain, but somehow he knew that he had already felt pains much worse than that one — which did not make it lessen.  
The youngest only noticed that something was happening, in fact, when he was already in his father's arms, being taken inside. He didn't quite understand what he was saying, he was probably talking to Alfred — who was right behind them. The butler made him drink something with a bitter taste, explained what it was and what it was for, however Damian only understood "sleep" and "feel better" of all the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredibly, I wrote until chapter 8 of the fanfic before I knew that Dick lost his memory and also “didn't remember being a Robin”. Batman said that if he forgot, maybe it would be better for him to have a normal life without the Batfamily. I don't even need to express here how much I was surprised to think something "close" to what the DC writers write, right?  
> Well, back to the fanfic notes: Dick and Jason don't live in the mansion. They go there whenever they need to, but officially live elsewhere (which doesn't matter at the moment). Jason is not believing the story too much because he is still "behind" about Damian's actions.  
> After the "Wayne brat" thinks he was betrayed by him, the two fight in the annual Teen Titans special (if I'm not mistaken). This shows that even though they both have the same “points of view”, they do not fully trust each other.


	7. Mistake

Jason Todd was just finishing the last of his cucumber sandwiches while watching Batman and Nightwing against Joker and his helpers. The good guys tried to prevent an escape after the theft of chemicals, or rather, to prevent innocent people from being run over by the gang.

— If I were there, I would have stopped them already... — he grunted with the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.

— If you had not acted badly with a child for being drunk, you would be there, Master Jason.

— He's not a child, he's Damian!

— Master Jason, manners please! — the butler asked, hated to see his sandwiches rolling around in people's mouths.

The boy fell silent and returned to follow the pursuit. The various screens were divided into a map of the city with trackers, the view through the Batmobile's cameras and a local newspaper covering the chase.

It didn't take long for everything to be resolved: Joker henchmen incapacitated while Batman personally took care of the clown, healthy and safe people returning to the streets, Dick worried about Damian...

— _Alfred, is he awake yet? — the boy asked for the vehicle's communicator._

— Not yet, Master Dick. Due to the heavy dosage of medications, you should only wake up in an hour. — the butler replied.

Tired of his exaggerated concern for a fake brat, Todd got up from his chair with an implied excuse of taking the dirty dishes to the kitchen, occasionally he could open one of several bottles of wine by mistake. He grunted all the way, especially on his way back when he saw Damian leaving the room and resting his broken leg on the floor — for him, more than enough proof that it was all forged.

— Look who's going for a walk! — he said sinic, stopping in the middle of the room and waiting for Damian to say something to try to deny it.

The boy, however, hadn't even noticed him there. He continued to try to walk alone, leaning on the wall until he managed to reach the front of the stairs, when he leaned on the handrail. He was hungry, but "Mr. Pennyworth" was not in the room like the other time, so he was forced to look for the butler around the mansion.

— I should film this and send it to Dick's sucker! The fragile and helpless baby Wayne walking perfectly with his broken leg!

Again Jason was ignored, which only made him even more annoyed by it all. He knew that Damian could only be lying — or being controlled by some psychopath — and it was by faithfully believing this that he took such extreme actions:

He went up the stairs and grabbed Damian by his pajamas, starting to shout threats and orders for him to stop acting. When it was not answered, or rather: when it was answered with a start of crying and an apology, he was even more angry.

Todd thought of throwing the boy where they were, trying to hit the chandelier with him or something, anything that would make Damian reveal that it was all just a joke to get attention, that he was fine and remembered everything — including how to “land” on the ground safely with a broken leg.

— It gets to be a shame... — the eldest said in a cold tone, going down the stairs and only throwing Damian on the floor when he was on the last steps — How long do you intend to continue with this!? Until you get tired of your spoiled little boy life and come back as if nothing had happened!? After everyone feels useless because of you!?

At this point, little Wayne no longer tried to understand what he had done so wrong “before” to be treated that way. He could only cry and feel fear, fear to the point of not being able to breathe, a fear that reminded him of an even greater dread — but only the feeling, without the causes.

— A killer... — Todd kicked him, which made Damian's body hit the wall, he was much lighter — A real demon! — He held it, lifted it in his pajamas with both hands — An inconsequential that does not deserve Robin's mantle!

Damian tried to apologize for what he didn't even know he had done, but he no longer had air in his lungs and couldn't even breathe. All that came out besides murmurs of pain were shards of a request for forgiveness.

— How long will you keep pretending!?

Jason stopped the shouting and was silent, listening to the sound of a few drops dripping on the floor. Damian pretending to be a demoralized and fragile child was one thing, but humiliating himself like that just to continue with who knows what he wanted was beyond all the principles he could have.

He left the boy, took a few steps away, muttering curses, and tried to think of what he would do. For the first time since it all started, since Damian was gone, found and then woken up; for the first and only time Jason Todd began to accept that it might be true: there was no longer Damian, Robin, Batman's own son, there was only one broken child that everyone was trying to reassemble.

— Hey... — he started — I'm not that bad guy I look like, okay? I know it must be too late to believe me, but I didn't do anything wrong... — The boy didn't answer, he was still lying on the floor, crying to the point of sobbing — What the fuck! Stop crying and listen to me, you...!

Damian was no longer in himself.

The eyes were rolling, stopping at the absolute white.

His hands were fisted, they were shaking uncontrollably with their arms twisted in front of their bodies.

Todd bent down beside him, tried to hold him or support him as best he could, but he continued to struggle. Nothing worked and, as if it was not enough to blame it all, Damian was starting to choke — at least that's what it seemed.

— Oh my God! Alfred shouted. He had been surprised by Jason's long disappearance, but he never expected to see it happen again.

— Alfred, Alfred I didn't mean it! — the boy started trying to explain himself, but was completely ignored. The butler practically snatched Damian from his arms and laid the boy on the floor — Alfred, you believe me, right!?

— This is no time for that, Master Todd! — the elder scolded him. Jason was sure that if Alfred's hands hadn't been holding Damian's head, he would have been slapped.

— A-Alfred... Alfred, is he going to die? Is he going to die like that because of me!?

There were too many things for Alfred to handle: Damian was having an epileptic fit, similar to the one he had when he woke up the first time; Jason was in denial, guilt, or whatever it was — it was the least relevant now.

— Tell Batman to come back immediately! — the butler ordered. Of all, it was Bruce who managed to be more effective in dealing with his son in the current situation, it would be better if the child woke up with him around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it Jason's overreaction? Probably yes. Remembering: he thought that the "little brother" was lying to get attention — which does not involve just pretending that he forgot, but causing problems and concern for the Batfamily. Jason sometimes gets a little out of control, as in the last part — in fact, it's a lot better done than my writing allows.


	8. Extra

Everything was already solved.  
The Joker's henchmen were incapacitated, as was the insane clown.  
Batman was anxious.  
For the first time in so many years of fighting crime, the only thing he wanted most at that moment was to go home, take off his uniform and tell his son stories.  
Dick was concerned.  
He took charge of giving the coordinates for the police to get there and also wanted to ask about Damian. As he was still sleeping, Nightwing went to see if his partner needed any help.  
Jason was in a panic.  
The vehicle's camera showed nothing but the car's upholstery. When he remembered the uniformed communicators, the boy had already screamed, cried and knocked down everything he saw ahead.  
— B, YOU NEED TO COME! — he shouted, not caring how loud it would echo in the bat's ears — COME NOW!  
— Red Hood, what...?  
— NOW!  
— By your face, the sound of the communicator was at maximum! — Nightwing commented with a mocking smile.  
— If you tell me what happened I can...!  
— BRUCE, PLEASE! — the other interrupted him again, stopping to sob at the beginning of a cry — Please!  
— Stay here, see you later... — was all the Dark Knight said to his partner before returning to the Batmobile — Jason, I need you to take a deep breath and give me informations!  
— It was my fault, but I didn't mean it! — the youngest answered in a small voice — Do you believe me, B?  
— I believe in you... — The punisher finally got into the vehicle, activating the Batcave's display to know what was going on. He expected to see broken things and Jason in one of his crises, but it was strange that Alfred was not around.  
— It's already coming? — the boy asked running his hands over his face — Damian, he...  
— What happened to my son!?  
That tone demanded answers, demanded that Jason tell everything he had done "by mistake", demanded that he take the blame for having "broken even more" poor Damian. However, Todd only managed to hide his face in his hands and cry even harder, whispering a valid justification for Batman to come back even faster:  
— He needs you, B...  
Jason huddled in his chair, as if he could hide from all the guilt he felt. He stared at the monitors, but he had no exact idea of the time passing. His mind was elsewhere:  
He was once a broken child, tortured with a crowbar by a murderous clown. The memories still hurt, especially when he daydreamed of seeing everything happen again without a chance to save himself.  
Now, he had broken a child. Damian didn't remember anything, but he would remember the torture. He would have nightmares. He would be afraid of him until the fear turned to hate.  
— Jason... — Batman called him, was already standing beside him and with one hand resting on the boy's shoulder — What happened?  
— I-I... I broke he. It was my fault again!  
I didn't need to be the greatest detective in the world to know what the old Robin was talking about. Nor did he need to be a psychologist to understand that it all largely reflected how much Bruce had neglected his children.  
— It's my fault because I wasn't here when they needed me. I was gone once again... — The bat's voice was full of guilt — But I promise to be a better father to you too, Jason.  
The youngest stared at him without understanding what he was talking about. It had been so many years since he faced Batman, or rather Bruce Wayne as a mentor — or as a father. Jason was even more surprised when he was hugged, a strong and comforting hug, which managed to ward off those bad memories of him.  
— I'll end up getting jealous! — Dick said laughing, looking at the two. He had just arrived.  
In response, the patriarch held out an arm to him, a sign that he just needed to get close to be hugged too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Dick Grayson was the first Robin. When he got older, he had to leave (in general he was working on other teams and / or at the police academy — I know he has a specific name, but I don't remember now).  
> Bruce ended up adopting another boy named Jason Todd, the second Robin. The version I like best for this is the one where "Jason was stealing the tires from the Batmobile and was caught by Batman". I don't even need to mention that this bad bird brought several problems during the patrols, right? Kkks  
> In the growing list of mischief of the boy Jason, he has since disobeyed Batman and wanted to act alone to even kill a guy (we know he was the one who threw the guy off the balcony, no matter how much the BatDad is misunderstood). Despite everything, B always forgave him (which implies that he was more flexible and careless with Jason, as if he were his “favorite son”).  
> As his way was VERY different from the camaraderie with which Dick behaved, the public did not like it very much and, in a vote promoted by the comics to know whether Jason would survive a Joker trap or not, he decided that it was his end.  
> Years and years later, as usual in comics, Jason came back to life! A little crazier than usual, about three times more troublemaker, with an acid touch of humor and his little jokes about his own death and passionate about crowbar.  
> To summarize the note: Jason's mischievous and irresponsible way that ended up killing him, either because he acted alone or because he didn't captivate the audience.


	9. Disagreement

Alfred entered Damian's room with a tray, he knew the boy would be hungry when he woke up. He made sure to leave no trace of what had happened in the mansion and, if it weren't for the different pajamas and a splint in place of the plaster, he could be sure that none of the “detectives” in the room would find out.

Jason was leaning against the door, staring at the floor. Bruce and Dick, also in their civilian attire, were on either side of the bed, taking turns looking between Damian, the ceiling and any other point.

Nobody wanted to talk about what happened.

— Gentlemen, I believe it is better to decide **now** what you are going to do **next**. — The butler started — We cannot continue neglecting this poor _child_ , we need to establish routines and shifts so that he is always in the care of someone.

— _Teenager_ , Alfred — Dick corrected him, sitting beside the bed.

— If I were here at least this time... — Bruce began to blame himself.

— I can stay here for a few days and...

— And make him have another crisis?

— I already apologized, damn it! — Jason looked angrily at Dick — I'm good at dealing with children, even...

— Pardon? — It was Alfred's turn to interrupt him.

— I take good care of Bizarro, it's almost the same!

— If taking care of children was that easy... — Bruce murmured and sat on the edge of the bed — I can't continue putting Gothan above everything, but if Batman doesn't continue, eventually Damian will end up suffering the consequences in the same way.

— Then keep saving Gothan and leave the rest of the world to the Justice League, Master Bruce.

— Speaking of the rest of the world, it wasn't just Robin who disappeared, Damian too. He'll end up asking about school, friends, or someone will ask about him — Dick commented.

— Like someone was really going to miss him like Damian… — Jason snapped.

— Young Jonathan constantly asks about him, maybe a visit could do him good... — Alfred said as he fluffed the pillow with the child's broken leg. Following the standards of that family, using something adjustable as a splint would only serve to be removed at the first opportunity. However, Damian was proving to be an extremely obedient and deserving of a chance, despite the short time of this "new relationship".

Before anyone else said anything, the boy murmured a sound of pain. Everyone looked at him anxiously for the boy to wake up and say at least "he was fine", but that didn't happen.

— Barbara, Estelar and the others of the Teen Titans also ask for him... — Dick resumed the conversation from before.

— I was also asked about the brat...

— Keep lying and saying he is unconscious. All he needs less now is several "strangers" talking about his other life. — Bruce got up from the bed, just waiting for some sign was distressing — This was the second crisis, we don't know if it's a passing thing or not. The less stress Damian has, the better.

— I still think it would be more responsible to take him for further examinations, Master Bruce, even putting he in the midia’s sights...

— Whathe...!? — Jason interrupted the two older ones — What do you mean, if it's a passing thing or not? Are you saying that even if he goes back to normal, he can still have these pinscher-attacks!? — He ran his hands over his face, he couldn't believe something like that.

— Hey... — Richard approached, placing a hand on his shoulder — I know it's almost crazy to look at things this way, but Damian has plenty of reasons to suffer from Post Traumatic Stress and things like...

— No!

— The truth is that everyone here does, but we prefer to wear a uniform and go out to face it for the night — Bruce began. He stared at the window, he didn't have the courage to look at his children — This is my fault, because I gave you the same life that I chose to lead...

— It may even be a little your fault that I died that time, but not fucking I would rather live the life of daddy's starched little boy than to break idiots face with a crowbar! — Todd took Dick's hand away.

— Maybe Damian prefers it now, that's what we need to accept.

— He prefers nothing! — Jason was in complete denial. Accepting that Damian was not pretending was already a surreal situation, accepting that he somehow wanted all of this was out of the question. — Why would he want that!?

— Because he needs it! — Bruce hit a punch against the wall — Because he had no childhood; does not have a life outside of Robin's mask; because I prefer to take children in risky situations to help me fight crime than to take care of them as I should; because I am a terrible father!

— Gentlemen, if you want to continue with this discussion, I ask you to get out of here! — Alfred stared at the two denouncing how angry and even disappointed he was — The reasons for Master Damian to be in this situation are vast, from badly healed traumas to even a simple blow to the head. If you want to choose the cause, almost slapping to see who is right, **leave!** — he reinforced — Because what this child needs now is care.

Everyone was silent.

Jason threw himself into one of the armchairs in the room and crossed his arms impatiently; Bruce looked out the window again, blaming himself for not knowing how to manage his two lives; Dick sat on the edge of the bed again, fiddling with his cell phone; Alfred, confident that the discussion would not start again, went to find new pictures to put in place of the broken ones — they fell when Wayne hit the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who ended up getting lost in the fanfic timeline:  
> On the first day Damian wakes up in the afternoon and has a crisis, recovering his senses just hours later (already at night). On the second day, in the morning, he has a pain crisis and receives strong medications, only waking up hours later (early evening), when he ends up having an epileptic attack again.  
> When I reread to add the notes, I ended up noticing that he was a little confused by so many “sleep and wake up”.  
> Poor Damian, he just wanted to eat something...  
> Note of note: Jonathan mentioned above is the son of Clark Kent with Louis Lane (the journalist). He and Damian were patrolling together in Super Sounds. I highly advise! It's a much lighter and funny comic, great for those who don't know much about the universe and want to start with something fun. The title is introduced in Superman (Rebirth) numbers 10 and 11 — a prior reading is not necessary, you can go without fear.  
> Bizarro, also mentioned, is a character with some different origins and different stories. Jason referred to his participation in "Red Hood and the Outlaws" (Rebirth). He is one of my favorites ♥  
> Note of Note of Note: I don't like Superman comics very much because I always liked the ones drawn to mystery, like Detective Comics. However, I love reading the titles of the Super in the Rebirth, it has a wonderful comic streak in addition to showing the "super dad" side.


	10. Red

Almost everything was red.  
The same red as when you close your eyes tightly on a sunny day: the red of someone who seeks darkness.  
Almost everything was red, with flames.  
The green flames seemed to burn with poison, or something just as dangerous with an enhanced color. They were tall.  
Almost everything was red, but everything was visible.  
The elongated shadows of bat creatures and human creatures, were the shadowy creatures that inhabited that ritual place.  
Almost everything was red, except what was black.  
The letters drawing their name with recognizable spelling, as dark and demarcated as everyone's dead eyes.  
Everything remained red, even when Damian turned and ran away from that altar. He ran without even knowing where he was standing — or why he no longer had a cast on his leg. He ran until he had nowhere else to run, to the end of a cliff facing the setting sun.  
Everything was still red.  
The land, the sea, the clouds and the seagulls.  
Of the gulls, one was redder. It was even bigger.  
It was large because it was not a seagull, but it had wings — wings of a bat, or a dragon, or any fierce animal that has fangs, from which the gargoyles are inspired. A deadly animal, which like any other animal must have been a friendly puppy.  
The living gargoyle, red, looked like a Goliath-spider. The Goliath flew to one of the trees, rested on the earnings and was delighted with the fruits. It did not appear to be dangerous, but no spider is dangerous with the proper distance.  
The tops of the trees and the foliage on the ground were gray.  
Damian got a little closer, he wanted to hide and go deeper into that neutral color just because he was neutral — because he didn't want red anymore.  
Sneaking through the bushes, there were statues of fish with their mouths up. Large gray statues with red spots. The statues, misshapen, looked dead — perhaps killed by the red stains. Also deformed were the humanized forms that were reluctant to approach, hidden behind the statues.  
They were versions of himself: lost, crooked, who had nowhere else to fit.  
Anomalous, such as him.  
However, before Damian could get close to his brothers, children of the red who were hiding in the gray, everything broke in half. The red of the sky met the red of the sea that cut the red of the earth.  
Almost everything was red.  
Human creatures with long cloaks, with shadows that protruded under red, the creatures wore green.  
The poison green was dangerous.  
The red was blood.  
The gray was no longer there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not good with nightmares, usually mine consist of absurdly strange dreams (like one in which my cat learned to ride a bicycle and was hit by a jet-ski...). So, in the inability to describe a good nightmare, I made the craziest interpretation I could of the following material:  
> Robin, the Son of Batman (chapter 2, page 6)  
> Robin, the Son of Batman (chapter 2, page 5 and chapter 5, page 7)  
> Robin, the Son of Batman (chapter 6, pages 21 and 7)  
> Robin, the Son of Batman (chapter 5, pages 5 and 6)  
> Robin, the Son of Batman (chapter 5, pages 13, 14 and 15)  
> I think you could see what I was reading at the time, right?  
> Note of Note: in the original, in Portuguese, red is "vermelho", which combines with several words with "v" that are repeated as green (verde) and poison (veneno).


	11. Awakening

Jason fell asleep sitting in the armchair, he seemed to have finally calmed down; Bruce fell asleep sitting on the floor, looked at his son until he fell asleep; Dick was the only one who slept in bed next to Damian, he was also the only one stretched out in an uncomfortable position with his cell phone draped over his face; Alfred, who despite all his concern for young Master Damian, retired to his quarters and slept soundly — this after leaving the tray in the kitchen, with his cucumber sandwiches ready to be heated when the child woke up.

Damian was sleeping, too, but he was in the middle of a nightmare. Such a nightmare that he had already stirred, murmured words and now screamed in panic, waking the others:

Jason tripped over his own feet when he got up, yet he felt the walls until he found the switch — although it was already close to dawn, Gotham is dark. Dick shouted together with his younger brother, taking a few seconds to understand that it was the cell phone that was pressing on his face.

Bruce was the first to do what should be done, maybe he was the first to actually wake up: he grabbed his son in a hug, said it was okay, warned him it was just a nightmare and that he was not alone. The other two boys watched them near the bed.

After holding on to his father and continuing to cry for a few minutes, Damian was already calmer: there were only his father and his older brothers, there were no people dressed in green making everything go in shades of red. There was also no gray, but everything was clear.

— As long as I'm here, with me, nothing will happen — Bruce promised as he loosened his hold. Despite sobbing, the son was better off wiping his own tears.

— It must have been a very bad dream, but it was just a dream.

In response to Richard's kind comment, Damian just hid his face as he managed, hugging his father again. He was shy and thinking he was pathetic, after all, he was already 13 years old and he shouldn't cry like that for a bad dream. He was even more uncomfortable when Jason asked:

— And how was the nightmare?

— Leave him, soon he forgets that dream...

— But, but...! — Damian protested even in a choked voice — There were horrible people, everything was red, there were strange things and in the end everything was destroyed! — At the end of the short story, he was crying again. At least he managed to give the impression that there were reasons to cry, he thought.

— I like red — Todd smirked, sitting on the bed next to them.

— Holy patience… — Dick murmured before yawning, repeating the rebellious brother's actions.

— I hate clowns. — Finally drawing Damian's attention to himself, Todd continued: — Sometimes I dream of a weird clown with a crowbar that wants to hit me.

— And you are afraid of him?

— No, not anymore... — He yawned and stretched before continuing: — Because when everything starts to get scary, I know it can only be a nightmare. You know, when you find out you're in a dream, you start to control it.

— I think I knew that, more or less. — Again, the child ran his hands over his face without shedding any more tears.

— I bet you never tried to make a scooter turn into a giant clown exterminating robot! — The boy winked, smiling from the corner.

— I'll try next time... — Damian smiled.

Noticing that the son was finally calm, Bruce tucked him into bed again. He almost made a nest of pillows to make the little one comfortable.

— You must be hungry — he commented, already walking to the door.

— Not! — Dick and Jason shouted in unison, the two practically jumped to stand and reach the "father".

— No what?

— I get something _**edible**_ for Damian, you can leave it to me! — Dick smiled and ran out of the room.

— Are you implying that I don't know how to do anything in the kitchen, include using the microwave!? — Outraged, Gotham's night watchman put his hands on his hips and faced the other boy.

— I'll get something _**drinkable**_! — Jason warned, running from the question too.

Didn't have to be the greatest detective in the world to know that Bruce Wayne's talents spanned several areas, but gastronomy was not one of them. At least that undo was worth it as a way to get some laughs out of Damian's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the book Batman: You Choose (ed. 01, pg. 79), which is available on Google Books, Batman made a great stew with the cure for laughing gas, at the cost of spending a week taking antacids.  
> In the Lego Batman movie, he knows how to use a microwave. Although I put the wrong time on the first attempt.  
> They were the only things I found about him doing something “edible” in a kitchen, of course, using a Google search guide (I don't remember seeing him cooking anything in the animations or in the comics).


	12. Extra

— Are you implying that I don't know how to do anything in the kitchen, include using the microwave!? — Jason repeated exactly what Bruce had said, placing his hands on his hips and, now trying to thicken his voice to the maximum to sound like the Dark Knight, he continued: — I'm Batman, of course I know how to use a microwave!  
Dick had to stop searching the cabinets: he held his aching stomach tightly — he was laughing too hard. In part, he was also tired of looking for something edible. One of the problems with always having someone do everything for you, like Alfred, is that you never know where things are.  
— He always asks the same question, it seems that he forgot that barbecue time on the yacht... — Jason commented while opening the refrigerator — He also had that time with the fries, remember?  
— Of course! — Dick replied in a small voice, taking a breath to laugh more and complete later: — Until today there is a burnt oil stain on the ceiling! There was also a time, the first time we camped: he prepared marshmallows with the packaging!  
— He did this to me too! — Jason laughed, leaving the refrigerator aside and looking at Dick — Yeah... I think we have things in common.  
— Yeah... — Dick smiled — Hey, popcorn? Damian likes popcorn, I think.  
— Every normal person likes popcorn! — the youngest stopped a few seconds to reflect on the statement to fit Damian — And even if he doesn't like it, he doesn't remember...  
— Wouldn't it be wrong to make him eat what he doesn't like to eat? — Despite the question, Graysson was already picking up the popcorn boxes in the gabinets, at least he knew where they were.  
— Don't you think he wants a new life or something? Let's start with the popcorn...  
— Ok... — The older one put the first one in the microwave and stared at the appliance waiting for them to burst. Jason went back to looking for something interesting in the fridge — Jay...  
— Yes, Dick, I hope that Damian will return to normal one day.  
— How do you know what I was going to...?  
— Because you are predictable — The youngest lifted his shoulders and stared at him, giving up the refrigerator instead and going to the wine cellar — You can even talk about all of this "he wants what we need now, blablabla", but I know you want the brat Wayne back...  
—You want too… — Dick stepped between him and the "beginning of bad decisions”.  
— Maybe I really want to.  
— Jay, stop trying to be the family rebel and admit right away that you like Damian! You are drinking more than ever since you found him, not to mention all the times you fell asleep sitting next to the stretcher because "there was no better thing to do", and...  
— Shut up, Dick’s head! — Toddy pushed him, opening the cellar and taking one of the bottles.  
— ... And I just think you should take advantage of all this to get close to the kid. — he finished what he was going to say before. He didn't want to fight back, he had to watch the popcorn so it wouldn't burn.  
— He never liked me, Dick, but at least before he was not afraid to the point of having one of these pinscher attacks...  
— Of course he likes you! — Replied the elder, leaving the popcorn aside to ruffle the hair of the younger brother who, by the way, was a little taller than him — And he had a crisis like that with me too... — Jason pushed him away yet again, without a push — … he's just nervous about everything, confused. In fact, he forgets things that happened near the crisis, I bet he won't even remember what you did.  
— But I will remember! I'll remember how I remember that crowbar shit! I'm going to have nightmares about it too, except that now it was me torturing a child! — He dropped the bottle on the floor, he was starting to feel the full weight of guilt once again.  
— Jay... — the brother hugged him, despite the other's reluctance to be hugged — Take advantage of the fact that he lost his memory and gets closer to him!  
— How am I going to do this after what I did!?  
— Doing what that frightened child wanted them to do for her after all...  
That was enough to break Jason again.  
It took until the youngest managed to compose himself, even though Graysson was with him all the time.  
In addition, popcorn burned — the father's lack of culinary talent was gradually being passed on to his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick melts my heart whenever he calls his wayward brother “Jay”. Is there anything more adorable than that, guys?  
> About "Dick's Head", it's Jason's affectionate nickname for his older brother.


	13. Morning

Alfred hurried up the stairs, with a speed he hadn't had in a few good years. When he reached the door handle, he was out of breath and with sweat running down his forehead — his white complexion looked like a melted candle.

The Wayne Mansion butler could be described as a lord, unable to let despair ruin his facade of tranquility — often resigned to fate. However, young Damian was testing his limits: he was a real “worry maker” even more than his father.

The old man opened the door slowly, afraid to see what was behind it.

When he arrived at the Mansion, he went first to the kitchen. He wanted to see the tray with his sandwiches empty, as a sign that the youngest of the house was awake again. However, he saw everything overturned: broken wine bottle on the floor, smell of burning things, scattered packages. In short: saw a war field, save for your cucumber sandwiches, exactly in the same place.

In the large room, the lights were on and the "children" were well and wide awake.

Alfred finally breathed a sigh of relief, giving himself the luxury of wiping sweat droplets before entering.

Damian was lying face down on the bed, he had the video game controller in his hands and he seemed to be concentrating on what he was doing. Beside him, like a mirror showing the future, Bruce was in exactly the same position — both kept their mouths half open, eyes glassy and wiggled their eyebrows according to the actions of the match. On top of them, with his back to his father and his legs to his brother, Richard was stuffing himself with chips as he watched the game. Jason, sitting on the floor and leaning on the bed, was delighted with a mixture of ice cream and caramelized popcorn, allowing himself to comment on everything:

— No, Damian! You have to take the shortcuts! — He said with his mouth full — Ah, B! It's not fair, you've already memorized the shortest path on this track!

— I'm just better prepared — the father justified himself.

— Even so: it's not fair!

— Accept as you lose the bet, Jay — Dick smirked.

— I was cheated! How would I know that B likes Dirt Rally?

— I don't like it, I’m just prepared... — again, Bruce justified himself.

— Looks like you do, Dad! — Damian said laughing, of the three he was the only one not interested in the result of the competition.

— I just...

— He just likes to prepare for eventual video game games — Alfred spoke for the Master, smiling in the corner when finally being noticed by everyone — I imagine that the gentlemen woke up very early, just like this being able to eat so many “junk” at the beginning of the day.

— We saw the sun rise — Dick commented, turning the packet of potatoes to eat the bran — Alfred, can you get me another one?

— I want liquor! — Jason said and put some more popcorn with ice cream in his mouth, he was concentrating on the match — Not that way, brat! Enough! You suck, give me that control!

— But Jason... — the youngest said slyly.

— Jason, it's still your brother's turn. Wait until he loses to be your turn — Bruce intervened with the classic game rule.

— Alfred... — As a last attempt, the "middle brother" looked at the butler for a chance to do better than the others. He even pouted.

— Gentlemen, I believe this is the end of the game. — The eldest walked and stood in front of the TV. Everyone sighed, already imagining what would come, except for Damian, who had no idea whether to leave control or continue playing, as his father was doing. — If you are awake and fed... poorly fed, by the way, you can go wash up and get ready for a family breakfast that will be served in... — the butler checked his watch, they were not yet not six in the morning — … forty minutes.

— You heard Alfred, guys. For the bath, all three... — Bruce said.

— Exactly, Master Bruce, **all** for the bath.

— I'm going to train a little bit before and... — Before the “exemplary father” could justify himself better, Alfred turned off the video game —… training outside, Alfred. I wouldn't be playing games, if that's what you thought.

— I am more than absolutely sure that you can go a day without your training, mainly because it is raining outside — The butler looked at the patriarch with a tired tone — And besides, **someone** needs to help Damian in the bath while I clean up all this mess.

— I'm out... — Jason warned while getting up. He clapped his hands against his clothes to get the crumbs out — useless since it only made it worse with the molasses from the popcorn.

— I really think I need a shower... — Dick acknowledged: leaving a patrol and just changing clothes was never a good idea. He stood up trying his best not to put any weight on Damian.

— Do I even need a shower, Mr. Pennyworth? — Damian looked at the butler.

— Of course, young man — The butler smiled, going to help him up. Compared to the brothers, he was not so dirty, but he still had sharps even in his hair, as well as a stain of ice cream on his cheek — Nothing better than starting the day with a good shower.

— Come on, kiddo... — The older brother held out his hand to the youngest.

— In the meantime, I hope the person who burned something in the microwave **again** will help me with the kitchen mess. — Alfred glared at Bruce.

— In that case... — He got up and went to his son, to help him walk to the bathroom.

— ... Master Wayne, are you blaming Master Dick?

— But it wasn't my father, Mr. Pennyworth, he was looking after me the whole time — Damian intervened, adorably polite.

— Yeah, Alfred... — The guilty boy murmured, leaving the room too — I think B's “culinary talent” is contagious…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian needs help bathing because of his leg. Let's say she is almost brand new, but he still needs some help - mainly because of the crises. I'm not the best person to know these things, luckily I never broke anything XD  
> For those who are wondering about the level of hygiene of night watchmen: in Encounter of Couples in Batman magazines, the Catwoman says that he does not wash his uniform every day. Now imagine: all the sweat accumulated after a car chase, a fight against the Joker and a trip home with a lot of tension and he just changed his clothes. I don't know about you, but I think baby Dami was suffering in their midst...  
> Note: I got a random name for a racing game. I suck at recording names and, moreover, my preference is always for RPG or fighting games


	14. Bathtub

Bruce helped his son to walk to the bathroom. He held it by the hands as you do with small children who still don't know how to walk alone.

When they got close enough to the bathtub, he helped Damian to sit up and, with the utmost care, began to remove the splint. When finished, he analyzed his son's leg, running his fingertips through the scars...

Where the torn tissue had previously been, with muscle and the tip of an exposed bone, now there were only the scarred marks. The recovery was fast and surprisingly, which did not mean that the horrible image was simply erased from the eldest memory.

— It doesn't hurt... — Damian spoke in a low tone, causing his father to wake up from daydreams.

— Don't you even feel uncomfortable?

— Anything! — The youngest smiled, only making his father even more astonished. Bruce did not want his son to be in pain, but her absence could also be worrying in several ways.

— Son, did you feel any pain after you woke up? — He asked hiding all the concern he felt. He took advantage of the distraction to start removing his pajamas while the bathtub filled — Alfred had warned him of the “extreme shyness” that the child had been presenting.

— Only here... — he put his hand over his left ear — It bothers a lot, because there seems to be something inside.

— What kind of thing?

— Some tiny animal that keeps buzzing — Damian looked away — ... Sometimes it hurts a lot, so much it makes me want to... — suddenly, he fell silent — Never mind, it's nothing too much. I bet I've felt worse before, I just don't remember it! — He smiled.

— Son... — Bruce bent down in front of him — We are all very worried about you. It doesn't matter if you've felt something worse before, I want you to tell me what you feel. I need to know to be able to take care of you, okay? — He smiled, trying to encourage the child. However, breaking all expectations, Damian answered him with a peculiar question:

— Do you promise not to think I'm weird?

— Promise.

— ... It makes me want to hit my head somewhere hard enough for it to break, just so I can stick my fingers in there and pull out this insect that keeps buzzing all the time. But I can't do that, it didn't work when I tried.

A visceral silence ensued.

Damian stared at nothing.

Bruce was looking at him with a wave of fear running through his body. Even so, he tried not to show all the amazement and finished removing his son's clothes, helping him to get into the bath afterwards — that silence lasted long enough for her to finish filling.

— How…? — Bruce needed to rethink the words and reformulate the sentence until he was absolutely sure how to ask: — Son, how are you so sure you did something like that and it didn't work?

Damian blinked a few times, it took until he could face his father again. He messed with his hair, where everyone had a habit of messing, and then replied:

— The scar... — he murmured, running his fingertips over it — I think I tried to do it and it didn't work — he said in an almost desperate tone, with his eyes full of tears — I know I already felt worse, but I don't want to continue with that buzz and try to do something again, dad!

Bruce hugged him.

Damian started to cry like when he woke up after a nightmare. He was afraid of his own imagination — _**he was a child, after all**_. A child whose father didn't know what was worse: letting himself suffer with his own imagination or with the truth that someone, who doesn't know who, did that.

— I promise that everything will be fine — Bruce already had a choked voice, the truth is that he had no right to promise anything at all: he had already failed before.

— What if I do it again!?

— I'll be there to stop it! — He promised, both to his son and to himself.

The child, already exhausted from crying, ended up forcing himself to calm down. Damian believed in his father, but he knew that he was a busy person and that he couldn't be the priority all the time — neither his nor anyone else's in that mansion. It only remained that it was not so much trouble, in the hope that this way he would be able to have someone around.

Bruce continued to hug him, trying to piece together the few pieces of the puzzle he had in hand. He needed to know what happened to the son; discover the culprit, who had broken him; he needed answers before Damian asked what happened.

Few are truly without humanity to the point of harming a **child**. Under that mask, under that uniform, under everything that **was** Robin there was _**only one child**_! An apparently strong **child** , but _**only a child**_! How did they manage to look at a little boy and hurt him until he left those deep marks? How did you keep torturing Damian with your bones showing!?

— The water is cooling... — the youngest whispered.

— Water? — It took Bruce a long time to completely disconnect from his thoughts as Batman and return to being just a father — Sure: the bath water...

— Yes! — Damian smiled, amused by the lack of fitness that his father had compared to Dick — My brother washed my hair while I washed the rest, so as not to be long... — He explained what Richard had done in his “first memories". It was the older brother who helped him walk and wash while the butler “got ready what was needed in the room". He did not remember if he had already taken other baths, just as he did not remember several things.

— Then let's do it!

Despite the claim, Bruce had no idea what to do. He didn't know if could use any of the products on Damian, he didn't even know where the towels in that bathroom were...

— Dad? — Damian called him "back to you" again.

— Right... — He got up, put his hands on his waist and faced the wide range of perfumery in the bathroom — ... How about choosing what you want to use?

In response, the little boy laughed a little before finally answering:

— The sponge and that big bottle, written "liquid soap". It could be strawberry, it smells good.

— Do you like strawberries?

— I like?

— I asked first: do you like it? — Bruce snapped. The truth is, he didn't know as much as he would like.

— I do not remember! — Damian ended up letting out some laughs — Dad, are you always distracted like that? That's why people steal your company in the Argentine sector...

— I've seen that telling you stories about your antics is not a good idea! — Bruce said after a disguised laugh. He was starting to wash his son's dark spiky hair, trying to be as careful as possible — as much as any wound was already healed.

— Hey, dad... — Damian called again — Do I know how to do something?

— Many.

— Type...? — He looked up, causing Bruce to despair with an "almost soap accident in his eyes".

— To draw. You draw perfectly, even if you've only seen it once.

— I can draw... — The child smiled in awe of himself, with green eyes shining once more. It was far from looking like it was so bad moments ago.

— Yes — The eldest smiled.

— And can I try to draw after the shower!?

— Not.

Resigned, Damian turned his attention to the soapy sponge.

— After breakfast, yes.

Damian smiled again, turning his head once more to his father.

Again, it almost generated a "soap eye accident".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian is extremely talented with drawings. He was trained by several masters. This is proven in:  
> Batman & Robin: Requiem, nº 18;  
> Robin, the son of Batman, No. 4;  
> Detective Comics nº 1003 (by the way, one of my favorite bows with the “knight of the light”).  
> About liking strawberries: if even Damian doesn't know, how would I know? It is not easy to find a lot of information about him without reading where he appears, but he does not usually mean anything, since he apparently "does not like anything".  
> About what happened to him: gather the clues and place your bets, because I don't say!


	15. Sketchs

— Pajamas again, Master Damian? — Alfred asked wearily, entering the boy's old room with the breakfast tray.  
— They're so comfortable...! — the boy replied dengoso*, continuing to search the desk.  
— Before you only accepted to use them to sleep. It was enough to wake up to wear something else... — the butler was not sure which word to use. Of the few times that Damian was not in his school uniform, crime fighting uniform or pajamas, he was ready for a formal meeting.  
— ... more serious?  
— Exactly. — There was no better word at the moment.  
— But it's so comfortable...! — again the child did dengo*.  
— And all this excess of comfort can make you even more sleepy than the effect of the drugs, little boy — Alfred made the concern clear in his voice — In fact, what do you do alone in your old room? How did you get in?  
— My dad let me get drawing materials while he bathes. — The youngest stopped his search and looked at the butler — Mr Pennyworth, is there anything wrong with me entering my old room? My dad said he had no problems, but if there are any I can get things later! — The voice was with some desperation, he didn't want to be inconvenient as it was before — I didn't disobey badly, I swear!  
— The room remains yours, regardless of what happens — The butler placed the tray on the empty part of the desk and approached the child — The only problem is that you had a mischievous way, so to speak. You liked to play tricks on people and I didn't have time to disarm all of them — He smiled, straightening the rebellious and wet wires of the youngest. Damian, so inattentive and innocent now, would never notice the lethal amount of weapons in the decor and the others hidden in the room.  
— Sorry, Mr. Pennyworth.  
— No need to apologize, Master Damian — Alfred continued to touch his hair, arranging the dark strands in the best way he could. It was past time to cut.  
— Mr Pennyworth, did I really draw all this?  
— Evidently.  
— As?  
— With dedication, I believe... — The butler ended the hair care of the youngest and took a good look at the drawings on the table. Most were sketches depicting animals or parts of the garden, all lacking the finish. Bruce made sure to leave them exactly as they were for his son to finish when he returned.  
— ... I think I forgot how to draw.  
— It's like riding a bicycle — Alfred bent down a little and stood up to Damian's eyes, holding his face affectionately by his cheeks — I'm sure that after a few attempts you will be able to draw as well as ever.  
— And if I can not? I-I would be spending these materials for a while, I may even end up spoiling some! — Damian's green eyes filled with tears — Do you think my father will be sad if I don't know how to draw anymore? And if I don't even know how to do anything I knew before?  
— How can you think that kind of thing, young boy? — Alfred's voice was far from sounding reproachful, it was overflowing with concern — Your father will continue to love you unconditionally, regardless of what you know or remember. In fact, it's not just him who loves you, everyone in this mansion adores you!  
A moment of silence was enough while receiving the comfort of Alfred for Damian to feel better. However, no matter how much he tried to stop being so pessimistic about himself, the child could only think about how irritating he was before and how incapable he was now — and despite everything, they still liked him.  
— Mr Pennyworth, how do I draw?  
— How could I know something like that, my dear boy? — The butler chuckled, walking away to Damian's bookshelf — I think some of these works can help. In fact, if you want, we can hire an art teacher.  
— I wanted to draw something now...! — Damian said returning to his dengoso* tone.  
— In this case... — the butler took two books from the art-related options and placed them on the desk — Then, only after eating all these fruits, you can look at some pages of the books and try to draw. I bet you will be surprised by your talent — He smiled.  
The child nodded and pulled the tray close to him. However, before putting one of the pieces of fruit in his mouth, he looked at the butler again and asked:  
— And if I can not?  
— In that case, you will have to do it like anyone who wants to learn to draw! — Alfred said in an enigmatic tone, taking advantage of that childish behavior that Damian had now.  
— What am I going to need to do!? — The green eyes were full of sparkle just for imagining a magic formula.  
— Devote yourself a lot! — The butler ended up chuckling at the younger boy's disappointment features — That's how you learned before: over many years studying with teachers and training.  
— Okay, Mr Pennyworth... — Said the boy still disappoint, despite not making any resistance about eating the fruits before doing anything else.  
— And you, Master Damian, are still adorable even if you are disappointed — The sweet compliment was more than enough for the child to smile again — Do you know what you want to draw first?  
— Hun... — Damian tried to think of something, but considered everything difficult enough to not be a good idea — Here?  
— ... On here?  
— ... It's where I live. Here... — The youngest tried to think of a better explanation — This big house... Mr Pennyworth, is this a mansion?  
— Yes, this is Wayne Manor.  
— ... Wayne like my father's name?  
— And same as your name too, young man.  
Alfred wished he had the courage to take his phone out of the pocket and take a picture of that moment: Damian seemed to be so surprised by it, as if he had just discovered a Templar treasure buried in the garden at home. That genuine, stamped surprise was just another sign of how innocent Damian was now: he didn't even have a clue who he was.  
— How about... — The older man started, taking the fruit bowl out of the youngest's hands and allowing himself to pamper him a little more, taking one of the pieces of fruit with the spoon and bringing it to his mouth, still open in surprise — ... if you designed the Wayne family crest?  
As his mouth was full, Damian just nodded energetically.  
— Master Wayne, for sure, will want to frame and put it in his office — Alfred commented, repeating the same actions while the little boy held one of the books with his hands free and started his study session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could be here in those notes saying how well Damian did, instead of doing it in the previous one. However, I will do something more profitable:  
> If you have ever tried to draw an image that you saw and found incredible and, however, it went wrong, you don't need to be discouraged and give up everything thinking you don't have “talent or gift to draw”. I am not being a hypocrite and saying that “talent” does not exist, since it does, but I will say this: talent can be ACQUIRED with DEDICATION. Learn hard! If you make a mistake, do it again, no matter how long it takes! It is better to try and make mistakes until you are well than to try, give up and never be able to do it.  
> In fact, I bet you never stopped to think about how long it took that artist you like to make an art. I'm not talking about the time for a finished art, I'm talking about all the time he spent studying, training and dedicating himself to where he is. Until finally having the "talent / gift".  
> About the asterisk up there (*): “dengo” is an expression in Portuguese, my native language, that I just can't find a substitute for. It is a way of behaving childishly, which is both cute and "stubbornness ".


	16. Relationships

— I'm not talking about our relationship, if there is any! I just want to know about Damian! — Selina said exactly the same phrase for the third time. It had been fifteen minutes since he entered the bat's room and cornered him demanding answers.

— He is as before, unconscious!

— So where is he!? — The woman stamped her foot against the floor, impatient and feeling that her intelligence was being underestimated in the extreme — Unless you can convince me that you drove like that for nothing after catching the Joker last night, you better tell me what happened to your son, _**bat**_!

— He's my son, _**cat**_ , not your! — Bruce was already losing the little patience he still had. That thief simply felt entitled to demand answers after interrupting him in the bath.

Selina fell silent.

There was nothing to dispute there: apparently, the two were not even related. What rights did she have to demand answers?

She sighed, thought about what she could say and ended up lowering her head, putting the idea aside.

— Alfred shouldn't have let you in here... — The millionaire murmured, walking to the window — ... Not without consulting me!

— ... As if I needed someone to open the doors for me! — Selina said with part of the anger she was feeling in her voice, and continued: — Don't worry, I don't intend to come back here. I don't even know why I come to visit **your son**. I just... I just imagined so many things after your mysterious disappearance, after finding everything empty down there that... — She fell silent again, didn't want to think of the worst — Anyway, apparently this is no longer my business!

Noticing that he had crossed the line, Bruce tried to fix things by explaining again:

— It is not that, it is that after what happened our relationship is not exactly the same, we barely talked and...

— It's not about our relationship, bat! — She said irritably, almost breaking the door handle when she opened it to go. However, whoever she saw standing in front of the room made her stagnate in place while processing what was happening.

— I-I wasn't listening! I heard it, but I didn't listen because I wanted to! — Damian hurried to explain — I just wanted to talk to my dad, but he wasn't in the office yet and the bedroom door was closed, I thought about knocking, but you were busy and I... sorry! — The guilt he felt was stamped on his face, in addition to the shame for having been "grafted". The truth is that he wanted to know who that woman was in his father's room and, as far as he could understand, he already had an answer on the tip of his tongue.

— Son, what did we talk about walking around the house alone? — Bruce tried his best not to sound reproachful, when in fact he wanted to lock his child up in a safe room and never let him out again.

— I wanted to show you the drawing I did...! — Damian tried to sound as adorable as possible, smiling and extending the drawing for his father to see.

— It was very good! — Bruce smiled, taking the paper and ruffling his son's hair — I'll ask Alfred to frame it, it will look great in my office.

Selina was still in the same place, a separate person ignored by the two. She watched that scene and tried to understand where part of the discussion was transported to an alternate universe where the Wayne acted as a normal and affectionate family.

Everything indicated the opposite of what was happening: Bruce's bad mood, the end of a patrol after he barely started, the lack of answers, he didn't give in so easily even when she cornered him in a bathtub... Everything indicated that Damian had gotten worse or even died.

However, he was there.

He was on his feet.

He smiled, as if **nothing** had happened.

— Damian? — Selina called him, bending down to be at his level — Damian, are you okay? Feels good? — When she received an affirmative nod, she took a deep breath and took the courage to do something she had wanted for a long time, since when the boy had been found: she hugged him, practically lifting him off the floor, while filling him with kisses on the face and threatening: — Next time you make me so worried, you...! You better be prepared for an angry cat with sharp nails!

The child, without really understanding what was happening, gave himself up to the caresses in the middle of a contagious laugh. He also hugged her, which made it take until that sentimental explosion was over.

— Promise me, Damian.. — She sighed, holding his face by her cheeks and asked for both you and your bat: — Promise that you'll never worry us again!

— I promise, mom — The youngest replied feeling his face heating up by the shyness in saying that, in calling a "stranger" in such a close way. He wanted to have her around, even if it was problematic...

— No, Damian! — Upset, Bruce spoke in the same cold and apathetic tone as when he was Batman — This is **not your mother**... — He tried to explain, already in his normal. However, before he could speak another word, Damian interrupted him:

— Why not?

— Because it isn't. Selina and I **had** a kind of relationship, that doesn't make her your mother.

— But if you want, you can call me mother! — she smiled, hugging the child again — I promise I'll try to be one for you from now on and...

— Selina! — On the verge of complete instability, the millionaire tried to intervene before it became a snowball: if not even he could be a centered father, how could a catwalk play a good role as a mother!?

— Oh, bat! — She murmured slyly, grabbing Damian and picking him up as if she were able to steal him for herself. He was so much lighter... it would be easy to get away with him.

— No kidding, _**cat**_! — the older one warned, he was writhing in jealousy: how dare she have Damian's trust so easily!? — My son's condition is still delicate, I don't want you to make him even more confused!

— And what kind of monster would I be to make _**our puppy**_ confused, huh? — She smiled, mocking his face.

— If you are together, she can be my mother... — Damian encouraged, hopeful that they would resume any relationship they had before. The truth is that the child was already starting to feel uncomfortable because he was between them: he felt guilty for disturbing whatever they had, mainly because, from what he had heard, that discussion started because of him.

— You **don't need a mother** , you need peace! — Bruce replied harshly, he was losing his composure — And we didn’t have a dating!

— We were engaged! — The woman completed with some grace, fleeing the room with the child on her lap.

After that, everything happened quickly.

Selina ran down the hall, taking Damian with her. She was careful, but no care prevented her from going down the steps by practically skipping a few;

Bruce went after her like Batman, although he was not dressed in character. He had lost his temper, he was upset and it was not for nothing: she crossed all the limits that he could allow;

It all happened too fast for Damian to understand perfectly.

He hugged his "mother" as much as he could, but he was scared.

She had scratch marks on her shoulders and a rock mark on her neck, at least that's what Damian managed to notice while trying to hide his face. His hair was wet, dripping and wetting his cheek...

The father, disgusted with the whole situation, had the features identical to one of the unfinished drawings that Damian had seen before: he in the darkness with a heavy look... a look of judgment. Bruce was judging him as a "bad son" for wanting to get away with his mother.

This escape ended quickly, even before Selina managed to get to the door: Dick cornered her at the bottom of the stairs and decided to join in the fun too, taking Damian from her domain:

— Thief who steals thief has a hundred years of forgiveness! — he justified himself, fleeing to a safe hiding place with the small child in his lap.

— **Cat**! — Bruce called, holding her by the forearm — We have **a lot** to talk about... — He kept his austerity, after all, she tried to steal his son.

Damian, whose last thing he saw was his father taking his girlfriend up the stairs, burst into tears. He didn't want them to fight again, mainly because the reason would be him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a warning: the relationship of Selina Kyle (Catwoman, whose affectionate nickname is "cat") and Bruce Wayne (nicknamed by her "bat") is not abusive, at least in my eyes. Of course, she and Bruce have many comings and goings, boring statements, fights and endings that are completely meaningless, but they are always close. Very close. Next on the rooftops of Gotham.  
> In the fanfic, without following the correct chronology, we have that the two were dating and apparently broke up (because Bruce doesn't know how to deal with two things at the same time: almost marriage and son in a coma). However, Selina continued to care for Damian and managed to notice the different behavior of Batman. She was so surprised to see the “puppy” standing that she didn't even notice the loss of memory.  
> Do you believe that Selina appeared in the first issue of the Batman comic!? Joker was also there, by the way.  
> Speaking of the favorite clown of many crazy people (like me) in issue 49 of Batman (Rebirth), Joker explains why Batman will never build a lasting relationship: for him to function effectively as Batman, he cannot be happy, as claimed to be in chapter 35.  
> Now let's go to Selina's relationship with Damian: it's a very reasonable relationship, considering that he is a jealous boy. I believe that the two see themselves as friends and that they trust each other, regardless of what chronology it is. In fact, there is even a story told by our beloved Alfred where Damian is Selina's son with Bruce (which makes my fingers itch a lot to write about it).  
> Speaking of children: the two (Selina and Bruce) have the canonical daughter of Earth—2, Helena Wayne (Huntress), who first appeared in DC Super Stars n. 17. We also have their son who is probably just a hallucination of Damian's jealous mind, Aion, appearing only in Batman: Prelude to the Wedding: Robin vs. Ra’s al Ghul n. 1 (there are also adorable scenes of Damian trying on clothes for his father's wedding with Selina — a bonus for those who read through: she has said that Damian doesn't have to call her "mother", but that she will always be someone who he can trust).


	17. Perception

Dick was sitting in front of the TV with Damian on his lap. He had managed to stop the youngest from crying after trying to explain the relationship of “fights and kisses” that Selina and Bruce had always had, besides making up an excuse for the girl's scratches involving cats.

Now, who was almost crying was Richard himself.

He felt helpless, bound, a farcical hero who cannot save even his little brother. He didn't feel that way just because of what happened to Damian, he also blamed himself for what was happening now: the little one was still shaking due to his nervousness, besides having his gaze fixed on nothing.

— I don't know how to calm you down anymore, kiddo... — He murmured hugging the little one even more tightly — If it continues like this it will end...! — Dick couldn't finish, he didn't even want to think about the possibility of another one of those attacks.

— How's he doing? — Selina asked entering the game room, where the "puppies" hid. This time I was holding arms with Bruce — I'm sorry, I didn't think he could have something like... I'm really sorry!

— I should have gone straight to the point, instead of trying to hide — Bruce tried to reassure her, he had already come to himself and was apparently calmer.

— If I had said it all at once, I wouldn't believe it — She shrugged, letting go of him and moving closer to the sofa — Damian, I'm sorry for making you nervous and... Damian?

— What happened? — The eldest walked hurriedly to the others, bending down in front of his children and trying to understand what was wrong — How long has he been like this!?

— B...! — Dick tried to speak, but the lump in his throat made him hesitate a few seconds — He was like that when he stopped crying and...!

— How long, Dick!?

— I do not know! — Graysson already had teary eyes — About five minutes, what difference does it make?

— He's having a crisis! — the night watchman said. He had already thrown all his calm into the air, he was about to collapse with his son.

That was enough for Dick to start crying, completely losing his composure and anything else that had kept him steady until that moment. Selina, who already felt bad about meddling and having crossed the line, took all the responsibility for it:

— This is my fault, I-I... — She had to stop and wipe her own tears — ... I'm a monster!

— I was so afraid of him having a crisis that I didn't even notice that...! — Richard hugged his brother even more, he didn't know what would come after _**that**_.

Appearing in that room like a light at the end of the tunnel, Alfred went to them maintaining the facade of tranquility in the best possible way. With care and implied orders, he took the child out of Richard's arms and laid him on the sofa, stretched out.

The butler had overheard the discussion before, knew that Dick was calming his brother and saw when Selina and Bruce entered there, already made peace. However, it was strange that there was no sign of celebration, given the puerile animation that Damian maintained at almost all times. He entered there already hoping that _**something had happened.**_

— Alfred, does that mean… — Bruce began, without the courage to finish.

— Yes, Master Bruce — the butler replied without looking at him, preferred to dedicate his attention exclusively to Damian — Damian is, unfortunately, epileptic.

— There are still chances that he won't be, it's not like an extra crisis would make such a difference, right? — Selina looked at her boyfriend, wanted to maintain her optimism despite having tears streaming down her face — Right!?

— It's the third since he woke up, unless we realized. After the second, so close, it is no longer just an eventuality — The butler answered by the boss.

— Alfred, he wasn't struggling like the other times, are you sure this is an epileptic fit? — The older brother wanted to hold on to whatever hope it was — He just got nervous! That! This lack of attention must be because of the medications he takes!

— There are several types of crisis, Dick... — the patriarch finally joined forces to speak again — Apparently, he had one when he was with me and I didn't notice it either.

— They are worryingly close to each other — the old man warned.

— And what does it mean? — Miss Kyle, who was already close enough to caress her newest boy’s dark hair, dared to ask.

— That I need to take my son for exams — Bruce replied, feeling defeated before he even had a verdict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could be here in these notes talking about the fanfic, but I believe it is time to talk a little bit about a serious subject: epilepsy.  
> To write the fanfic I had to research a lot about it, since my only experience with this type of disease was with my little dog who died (of old age, by the way). However, as I am not a health professional and I did not even have time to read more in-depth materials, such as articles, CBT or even books on the topic, I can (and probably am) mistaken on some topics:  
> Do you remember the crisis in which Damian lost consciousness with his body rigid and shaking? This is called a seizure and is just one of the ways that epilepsy can present itself, it is the most intense type. When a person has a seizure it does not mean that they are epileptic, as epilepsy is set up when seizures are frequent — unrelated to infections, use of toxic substances and other likely triggering factors.  
> In addition to the seizure, there are other ways in which an epileptic seizure can arise. They vary a lot, so I am not really sure if the form described above is considered “within the standards”.  
> WARNING: if a person is having a seizure, DO NOT try to restrain him, DO NOT try to put something in his mouth (especially his fingers), DO NOT leave him in places where he may fall or get hurt by bumping into things (turn him on his side, if you can, to prevent the saliva from choking you). Wait trying to stay calm. Be aware of the duration of the crisis, passing five minutes can be serious — the seizure is not just a symptom of epilepsy.  
> Respect: Epilepsy is not contagious and is not a mental illness. It has treatment and cure: people and epileptic animals have a normal life.  
> For those who are more interested, search the Internet for articles from the Brazilian Institute of Epilepsy, as well as some very cool interviews that professionals in the field (neurology) usually give for awareness.  
> Note of the note: this is a translation, other English terms are probably used. Sorry!


	18. Extra

— Jason, did you understand everything I said? — Bruce asked as if he were wearing Batman's mask.

— Ahem... — The rebellious son murmured, stretching and soon after resting his feet on the panel of computers in the Batcave. It was barely after seven in the morning, that was the best Jason could give anyone - at least after sleeping so little and stuffing himself with sweet junk.

— ... Repeat.

— Damian with pinscher crisis again, you and Alfred take to the doctor... — He yawned before continuing — ... I'm going to be Dick's _**nanny**_ , we don't set fire to the mansion and everyone is happy forever. The story is over.

— Can you at least pretend you're taking it seriously!? Who cares!? — Dick pleaded, his eyes were still red from crying. He was looking for something in the computer databases, which didn't stop him from intruding.

— I'm taking it seriously, I just think they're exaggerating.

— Exaggerating? — again, it was Batman who spoke.

— B... — Finally, Jason straightened in his chair and looked at the veteran with the least seriousness — Think about it: it must be all because of that head injury. He had none of this before, it is the only explanation. They will only examine him, say that this is it, give him some medicine or something and that's it.

— MEDICINE, SOMETHING AND THAT’S IT!? — Dick left what he was doing aside — How can you say such a thing!? This thing will ruin his life and you just don't care!? — The eldest son approached his brother ready to make him lose the “indifferent” stand even if he had to use his fists, but Bruce just put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

— Epileptic people can lead normal lives — the father said, resigned.

— Normal people with epilepsy have a normal life, B!

— And now Damian has a normal life, Dick’s head! — Jason stood up — I'm not saying this whole thing is good, but... — He yawned — But we need to accept...

— As bad as it looks now — Bruce added.

— You are talking as if I had lost hope of him returning to normal! — Dick insisted, almost allowing himself to break again and start crying. The truth is that all the acceptance he had before was just a facade, what he wanted most was to see the boy running around again dressed as Robin.

— If he treats the injury, he'll be back to normal! What part of that is hard to get into your big head!? — Todd approached him — And if he doesn't come back, good for him.

— What do you mean "good for him"!?

— He better go on without memory!

— And is he better off with the crises too? You just need to say that!

— If he remains without memory, he will not miss being a Robin!

— STOP! — The father demanded — ... If we really have nothing to do about crises, they can be controlled. In time, if Damian doesn't recover his memory, it will be better to tell him everything.

— B, the boy will freak out when he finds out... — Jason said anguished. He wanted to have the "stinky brat" back, but the best thing was that everything stayed as it was, instead of Damian coming back "in half" and not being able to handle everything.

— It is better that he know for us, little by little, than a beautiful day waking up and remembering everything...

— You are talking as if he could never return to normal again! — Dick let a tear flow — He is strong, I bet he is not even epileptic and that only happened because he was too nervous...! — He ran his hands over his face — ... damn it! I've been looking for it, I know that children can have it if they have a fever...

— The only way to know is to take him to the doctor.

The two boys fell silent. I had nothing to discuss about it, after all, they didn't even know what was going on with Damian... they didn't even know what had happened before.

— _**Bat**_ , Alfred already finished fixing everything... — Selina also warned of the stairs, would not bother to go down everything just to go up later — Damian is still sleeping.

— I'm done with the documents, I'm ready! — Bruce sighed, holding tightly the folder with all the medical exams and so many other papers that he would need to hand over to the specialist doctor in Metropolis. All duly organized, as well as changed as to "causes".

— Send news... — Richard asked, was already a little more calm.

— And bring some hamburgers… — Todd asked, pretending to be indifferent about everything.

— And you two: behave yourself — This time it was Bruce who asked for something, pulling the two older children into a hug, a hug that was even returned by the rebellious son.

The truth is that the dark knight, the vigilante who scared the monsters themselves, did not want to go. He didn't want to find out if the son had something serious, he didn't want to see him son doing tests again, he didn't even want to imagine him lying on a stretcher and connected to equipment, as he had been for so long… Bruce was afraid, but he wouldn't let it show. It wasn't just Damian who needed him now.

— _**Bat...**_! — Selina called him again, starting up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the previous note: people with epilepsy have a normal life, however, they must follow some basic rules that everyone should obey, such as: sleeping at least eight hours; avoiding alcoholic beverages, stress and many visual stimuli; eating well and at short intervals, etc.  
> Of all of this, Damian usually refuses to sleep (which always makes me wonder why he is so small) and despite being a vegetarian, he usually stays too long without eating. All of this without counting the stress and the probable consumption of prohibited things for children.  
> Now let's add memory loss to this explosive recipe, which is a paradox: he cannot be stressed because it would trigger a crisis, but he will be stressed because he has epilepsy. He couldn't stay up all night, jumping around...  
> However, as Jason said, it could be all due to the head injury. Something treatable.  
> Speaking of Jason, he loves hamburgers.  
> And, now speaking of Bruce: no, he does not usually accompany his children on trips to the doctor (I believe that he substitutes routine examinations for examinations done in the Batcave itself).


	19. Examined

— Yes, yes Master Dick, he is calm. No, he cannot speak now... — the butler looked around, looking for some excuse — ... he went to the bathroom. As soon as we have more news, I'll be back. Yes, be well too... — And, with a small smile that soon faded, Alfred ended the call. Now that he had told Richard that they had arrived at the clinic, it was time to help Bruce.  
The butler walked down the halls and, as he approached the gastric lavage room, he could hear Damian's screams more perfectly. In short, he begged "Mr. Pennyworth" or his father to have the nurses leave him alone.  
He stopped in front of the door.  
Alfred, who since the beginning of that day, had been gathering strength, who knows where to be able to deal with everything, felt that he no longer had the spirit to endure that stressful situation any longer. He thought had reached the limit when Damian had a real panic attack, epilepsy and whatever else had left the child struggling unconsciously for so long — after seeing that he was on a boat, third crisis that morning.  
He had made up some excuse to get out of that room and try to compose himself — evidently, he hadn't been able to re-establish the facade of tranquility yet.  
— ENOUGH! — Bruce's deep voice came out of Damian's screams and the injured nurses' murmurs — If my son doesn't feel good about it, he won't do anything! — He said, being clearly heard in the silence that had been installed.  
— But Mr. Wayne, the other exams need at least four hours fasting... — One of the doctor's assistants tried to convince him.  
— We wait as long as it takes! — Wayne justified, leaving the room shortly afterwards with his son on his lap. Damian had his face hidden in his neck, apparently still shaking; at least it was due to nervousness this time — Alfred... — he said trying to look calm — How are things in Gotham?  
— Everything in order! — the eldest replied, approaching and stroking Damian's hair — And what do we do now, Master Bruce?  
— Let's wait until my son calms down... — he replied, trying to look really convinced that it would happen soon — Did you remember to bring his drawing material, to pass the time?  
— I can go get it right now in the car if Master Damian wants it — the butler suggested.  
— Son? — Bruce looked at him, waiting for an answer.  
— ... ok — the youngest replied without really caring and hugged his father more. His face was still wet with tears, all he wanted to do was get out of that “bad” place; as he understood it.  
— I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Damian, you don't have to be like that… — The father hugged him a little more tightly, feeling guilty for having failed to protect his son so many times before.  
— It is a very reasonable behavior for a boy in his condition, Mr. Wayne — the doctor, the neurology specialist, commented as he approached the two — Dr. Garner — He extended his hand — It is an immense pleasure, despite the unfortunate circumstances, Mr. Wayne — He held out his hand to Alfred when he finished greeting the millionaire — I assume you are Mr. Pennyworth, whom I spoke to on the phone.  
— Exactly.  
— And this boy must be Damian — He smiled, looking at the child who still kept his face hidden — Don't worry, we'll take good care of you here and find out what's wrong.  
— ... I want to go home — the little one asked, completely ignoring the promises of his father and that doctor.  
— Let's go when it's all over... — Bruce revealed.  
— And the sooner you collaborate with the exams, better — Dr. Garner encouraged — Damian, you seem to be a very strong boy. Do you want to try gastric lavage? If you do, you won't have to wait so many hours before you can go home — He used the best tone he had to deal with children.  
— ... No.  
— In that case, why don't you stay with Mr. Pennyworth while I talk to your “daddy”?  
— No! — This time little Wayne was agitated and almost slipped from his father's arms, managing to hold on in time — I want to go home!  
— Damian...! — Bruce tried not to sound reproachful, but he didn't expect that kind of reaction — Son, you still have the splint. Avoid moving like that, okay? It can hurt more...  
— Master Damian, please have manners — said Alfred.  
— But, but...!  
— As I said before, it is very reasonable behavior — The doctor intervened in favor of the child — He is just scared of everything. Let's leave "Daddy" looking after him in the beautiful room overlooking the garden while I talk to Mr. Pennyworth, is it okay for you? ...Damian?  
— Dad, take me home? — Again the child completely ignored the doctor. The green eyes were already red from crying.  
— Afterward... — The father hugged him a little more — If you'll excuse me... — he asked, already walking down the hall with his son in his arms. It wasn't just Damian who needed to get some rest.  
Alfred continued to stare at Dr. Garner, scrutinizing him thoroughly. It was a rare procedure to have to take one of the children to be treated outside the Mansion, especially in such a "common" place, a center for neurological studies — with so many people knowing everything...  
— I have some questions, but I believe it is better to talk in a more reserved place — the expert suggested, starting to walk — I imagine that taking care of one of the Wayne children requires the most absolute discretion.  
— Evidently, Dr. Garner — The butler accompanied him.  
— I had time to take a quick look at family histories. Although epilepsy is not hereditary, it can be a symptom of some other disease... — began the doctor, as soon as they entered his office.  
— And found something, Dr.? — Alfred asked, sitting at the table.  
— … yes.  
— And what would it be? — The old man asked in a tired tone. He was without strength to deal with even more problems.  
— That the two have an incredible ineptitude when it comes to skiing.  
— ... Pardon?  
— It is quite true, my dear Pennyworth — Garner began, indicating the papers on the table and some x-ray images on the monitor — Mr. Wayne has little cartilage on his knees, elbows and shoulders are almost nonexistent; residual injuries to various organs, scars... — He sighed — Little Damian, apparently, is going the same way: open fracture of the leg, broken fingers, a serious injury on the left side of his head... — The doctor sighed, clearly felt sorry for that child — ... all this skiing.  
— Yes.  
— ... Skiing?  
— Exactly, it is a common activity of the two — Alfred said, standing firm.  
— Heavens...! Can't they just play chess? — Despite the tone of grace, Garner was taking everything very seriously.  
— Believe me, things can get much worse in a game of chess — The butler also allowed himself to speak lighter.  
The doctor smiled, sat across from the older man and looked at him. Now he had serious features, as if he were a poker player in his bluffing moment:  
— Believe me, Pennyworth. This is not the first case of a millionaire who can end my professional life with just one call, so feel like you can trust me. — At this point, Alfred regarded him almost certain that Batman and Robin had been discovered — Damian suffers abuse or neglect?  
— ... Y-yes? I'm sorry, I didn't understand the question — The old man broke off, letting out a snicker — I believe the age is coming.  
— I'll be even clearer: Bruce Wayne allowed his son to get hurt in some way? I'm not saying that it was exactly him who threw his son from the top of a snowy mountain, perhaps one of the older brothers...  
— How can you think something like that!? — Alfred stood up, making it clear how surprised he was — Mr. Bruce loves that child more than anything! And Damian's brothers too!  
— But it seems that...  
— Dr. Garner! — the butler interrupted him — If you have doubts, investigate the Wayne public life and you will see: ineptitude is not just about skiing! Master Wayne tends to stumble down the stairs on gala evenings — He opened the door ready to go out and see his "children", but before: — A man, who lives for the sake of his children and the needy... a father who he will stay as long as he is here, with Damian, so that he does not feel even more nervous about medical procedures... Is this man you accuse of being negligent? An abuser!?  
— I'm really sorry, Pennyworth — the doctor replied, his cheeks red with embarrassment, looking away at the sheets on the table.  
The first alternative for everything was discarded.  
It now remained to investigate further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RECTIFICATION: epilepsy has no cure! I will copy the words of my dear reader Dama Layla, who warned me: “epilepsy has no cure, the patient is considered in‘ remission ’if, after treatment, he reaches 2 years without a crisis after withdrawing the medication”. She also justified my mistake because "it is the type of thing that you are either in the health field (especially neuropsychiatry) or live to have knowledge of". As I said before, I didn’t have as much time to search deeply in scientific articles in the field - and, unfortunately, it’s not that easy to find. Thank you to everyone who was interested in the information about epilepsy and I leave here my most sincere apologies for this error! If you know any more related information, just let me know ♥  
> For the diagnosis of epilepsy some tests are necessary, such as: magnetic resonance or computed tomography; laboratory blood and urine tests; electroencephalogram. Exams that need a few hours of fasting.  
> Since Damian had already eaten breakfast, Dr. Garner suggested a procedure called "gastric lavage" - not as bad as it sounds. I saw Dr. Nowzaradan once suggest this when one of the patients failed to fast before skin removal surgery (My 600-lb Life). If it doesn't fit this situation, let me know: I can replace it later!  
> Note to Note: Everything Dr. Garner said about Bruce I took from a comic strip with images from one of the Batman films, which I don't know what it is. I only know that he is one of whom Christian Bale played the bat.


	20. Extra

— Excuse me Mr. Wayne, would you have a few minutes for an interview for the Daily Planet? — Clark Kent, with his notebook in hand, chased the millionaire through the Neurology Clinic cafeteria.

— ... No — Bruce murmured, going over to one of the snack machines.

— I know your son is hospitalized here, which contradicts his last interview mentioning a summer camp in... — Before the journalist managed to continue doing his job of harassing Bruce, he watched his friend punch the poor machine while trying to catch some thing. The others in the canteen simply ignored it, as if it were something routine — Want help?

— No! — Bruce tried again.

— ... Are you sure, Mr. Wayne?

— I want the fucking cereal bar! Can you catch her!? Can you do it!?

Of the few and extremely rare times that Clark saw his friend in that state of nerves, there was little to do. The journalist just gave a “little push” and caused one of the bars to fall - perhaps it would improve the climate.

— So, Mr. Wayne, can we have a conversation now? At least while you... — While he was talking, Bruce was walking away towards the elevator. Clark was forced to go after him to get something out, and luckily the cabin was empty — Bruce, can you at least answer what is going on?

— No.

— Bruce, Jon saw when you arrived and really worried me. I know that part of what he said must be just imagination, but if Damian is here it means that...

— Turn the reporter side off a little — Bruce practically ordered, stuffing the bar into his mouth at once.

The journalist watched him as he tried to understand all that reluctance. Wayne was worn out, visibly dejected, anxious and probably sleepless since he first set foot in Metropolis - three days ago.

— He'll be fine? — Clark asked as a friend, trying to keep positive thoughts.

— ... Nobody knows. — Bruce murmured closing his fists hard enough to knock out whoever received that blow - he wanted to hit himself in the face, he was considering himself the worst of villains for what he let happen to his son. He stared at the ground, he didn't have the strength to deal with the “symbol of hope” when he himself no longer had it.

The two were silent.

Super, who at that moment felt completely useless there, was surprised when his friend rested a hand on his shoulder. It would be a completely normal act due to the circumstances, but knowing his best friend as well as Kent claimed to know the bat, he knew it was a bad sign - blurred vision.

— ... Can... — Clark stopped, it took him a few seconds to continue: — Can he die?

The elevator opened.

They were on one of the top floors of that neurological institute outside Metropolis. Years ago, that study center started to function as a clinic for special cases, which did not prevent it from being an exquisite place and up to the Wayne. Damian was in one of the largest rooms, curiously the only occupied bed on that floor.

— If you just keep looking, the elevator doors will close — Bruce murmured in disgust.

— Alfred knows that you have high blood pressure like that? — Super asked trying to control himself not to giggle: the “invulnerable” Batman shows up as a “blind bat”.

— Why? Are you going to tell him?

— The last time you were like this, the Earth was under...!

— Does not matter. — interrupted him, continuing shortly afterwards: — What matters to me is **my son** , my pressure I deal with later. The rest of the world: the Justice League takes care.

Clark Kent, again letting his journalistic side come to the fore as he took his friend down the hall in slow steps, began:

— I already have the title of my article: “Father of the year has a heart attack trying to take care of his son”, a really new experience for you... No! It's not flashy enough! How about this: "inconsequential father died leaving his children orphans", hun? — without being able to control himself, he ended up giving one of his stupid smiles and continued: — Poor Alfred, needing to pretend he hasn't noticed his condition yet... he must also be on the verge of a nervous breakdown!

— You never shut up? — Bruce kept his tone cold, did not see the slightest grace in that situation — I don’t know how you managed to become a reporter with such bad titles.

— I think it's the glasses... Louis always says that I talk more when I wear them — He smiled again, ignoring the pins. — It's just too new what is happening: you are acting like a worried father, a worried Batman.

— If you understood the seriousness of it all... — He murmured, with no patience for further explanations. Alfred was better at dealing with people, he just wanted to deal with his son.

The two returned to silence: Bruce did not want to say anything else and Clark started to think about what he had said - this was not the time, let alone the place to try to be the “good-natured friend”, despite the refusal to reply always indicate and indirectly that everything would be fine.

When they finally arrived in front of the bedroom door, Clark opened it for his friend - he deemed it necessary, since the two times Wayne took his hand in an attempt to open it, he missed the handle. As soon as they entered, they came across a scene that managed to break any expectation:

In that large and refined room, Damian seemed to draw something with systematic and repetitive movements. Beside him, Alfred was stroking Jonathan's rebellious hair, a boy who still had tears in his eyes.

— He will be fine soon, no need to worry... — The butler tried to sound optimistic.

— Jon!? — Clark practically ignored his friend who still needed some help and went to his son — How did he get here? I asked to wait for me in the car... Son, what's wrong? — With the lack of answers, he turned to the only one who should have known the answer — What happened, Alfred?

— ... Damian, he... — the butler sighed, he was visibly tired.

— Another crisis? — with his voice showing how worried and frustrated he was, Bruce asked taking devious steps until he managed to reach his son. Blurred vision was not enough to stop him in that situation.

— Exactly — The oldest among them agreed, staring at the floor — It started less than two minutes ago, when young Jonathan came in to find out how his friend was doing.

— I didn't mean it! I-I just wanted to see him, but... but... — the youngest tried to explain himself, but he felt so guilty that he cried again before he managed to speak another word. He was living up to the nickname "crybaby", a nickname that Damian had not yet used.

The journalist straightened his glasses and looked at the other child. Damian continued to scribble his sketchbook, literally scribbling. The look was lost in the most complete nothing, while he continued to make a sequence of streaks across the sheet.

— Young Jonathan came in through the window. — the butler finished the explanation, making it clear why his favorite child was in that state.

— Jon...! — Clark, taken by the uncertainty and anguish of the moment, ended up scolding his son - as much as wanting to see his friend was something normal.

— He didn't want it — Bruce intervened, without really paying attention to that family conflict. He just didn't want to make the atmosphere in that room worse, which consequently could worsen his son's condition — Damian is going through a delicate situation, which **no one** needs to know about. My son just needs peace of mind.

— ... When you say no one, is it really _**no**_ _ **one**_ _ **but those who already know**_? — Clark straightened his glasses, trying to keep the reporter side at rest.

— Yes.

— W-will he be fine soon? — Jon asked in a choked voice.

— We still don't know much about Epilepsy, — Alfred replied.

— Bruce... — Superman looked for a word that could comfort his friend, but he couldn't find it.

— I can already handle it better — he replied, carefully taking the sketchbook and pencil out of Damian's hands — My son is epileptic — He said, hugging the little one so that he still allowed the repetitive movements to continue — I cannot help he, not even you can, Clark... **nobody can**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark Kent, what about this super friend? If you don't know him, I'm sorry, but I don't even know how to explain what Superman would be. It was one of, if not the biggest, motivator of the growth of the comic book industries in the USA and, consequently, in the rest of the world. It served as a symbol of hope for the post-war period and is still seen today by its readers: a symbol of the hope that everything will be fine (something we need, right? Kkkks).
> 
> He is Bruce's best friend. In fact, did you know that in the Rebirth, the Super destroyed Batman's moon cave? You have no idea how many jokes I made of it! Kkks.
> 
> As a civilian, Clark Kent works as a reporter for the Daily Planet newspaper, where he met his wife, professional colleague, Lois Lane. Both had a son, the lovely Jonathan Samuel Kent (Jon).
> 
> If Clark and Bruce are friends, why shouldn't their children be too? And so, Damian and Jon formed a more than perfect pair in the adventures of the Super Sons (Rebirth). They are my darlings!
> 
> Note to Note: Christopher Reeve, an actor who personified Superman in theaters and is still remembered for his brilliant acting (he didn't just wear glasses as a disguise) was a real hero with his campaign to release stem cell research.


	21. Extra

— You open the door! — Jason murmured, just before licking the barbecue sauce he had on his fingers.

— No way, I went last time! — Dick replied, throwing himself on the sofa. He was armed with several packages of chips.

— You don’t need to answer the bell anymore, luckily I haven’t forgotten the keys... — Tim commented entering the games room.

— Timmy! — The eldest smiled, sitting on the sofa and making it clear that the youngest was supposed to sit next to him — I thought you were too busy with the computer codes of the "divergent timelines" *...

— And I am — the boy commented as he approached the sofa avoiding all the mess. The “brothers” had taken over that room to do everything they ever wanted and that respect for Alfred prevented. There were pizza boxes on the floor, packages of frozen food, dirty clothes and even some equipment — But I decided to see how things are going.

— Bad...! — Jason looked around, raising his hands — If I knew what I was getting into, I had stopped halfway here and would be in a bar by now.

Richard, who seemed to want to say something, did not have the courage to say a word. He couldn't scold Jason for wanting to get away from it all, and couldn't take the seriousness out of the situation to make the younger brother's stay attractive. It remained to be sincere, only sincere:

— Maybe with one more person to help, everything will end up improving.

— So bad? — The boy looked away at the folder he was carrying — Ah! I need to show Bruce some things, where did he go? I tried to talk to him, but there are days when he doesn't answer his cell phone and... — Now looking at Dick again, he noticed that he had said something wrong — Don't get me wrong: I read your messages about Damian, I'm just not convinced yet.

— Then be convinced: Damian is sick.

— And it is better to believe that before you do something stupid — Jason grunted.

— It is exactly to avoid nonsense that I am here: I did some simulations and the results showed that... — Tim stopped talking, looked very closely at the brothers and seemed to have finally noticed something — Why isn't Bruce here anymore? Has begun?

— He is still in Metropolis with Damian, four days and no answers... — Jason replied.

— Alfred called earlier today, said they might be back for the weekend — Dick completed the explanation — And what will start, Tim?

— Wait... Are you serious? Is this serious? Is Damian really sick? — the boy stood up — How serious is that? I... — he started walking from side to side — I thought it was just a way for the gremlin not to be harmed by all the problems he was in, but if this is happening it might be the point of reflection and...

Suddenly, there was no one else in that game room. Not even it existed. All that went on in Timothy's mind were the various variables that he had studied in recent months and how some of them converged to a common point. It was close.

— I think it broke — Jason murmured as he watched the younger wandering from side to side talking about things he had no idea about.

— You must be accepting that Damian is serious sick... — Dick replied equally low.

— Speaking of the brat, how many people know he woke up?

— Before he had his first crisis, I could only warn you two and Babs.

— And how did she not run here at the same time?

— Said that I dreamed of Damian waking up and she accepted the lame excuse — Richard shrugged, laughing — I think sending his photo sedated two minutes later was enough. She's busy helping Cass…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timothy Jackson Drake, our beloved Tim. Third Robin and one of the most beloved has finally appeared! My favorite phase of it was in the animations of Batman's New Adventures.
> 
> For those who are not remembering much of little Timmy: do you know that cute Robin in red and black clothes who appeared in a Batman special with the Super Shock? It's him!
> 
> For the most current in this DC world: have you seen that animation called Young Justice, in which Robin is Superboy's super friend (title of Conner, a teenage clone of Superman)? It’s him!
> 
> Unlike his brothers, Tim is not so much focused on combat itself: his specialties involve a lot more characteristics of a detective like espionage, programming management and common sense (most of the time). Also unlike the other Robins, Tim was not yet an orphan when he started acting as Batman's partner. The biggest difference between him and the brothers is due to the respect and obedience to the bat's commandments: Tim respects Batman and does not go over his words as others normally do.
> 
> Now talking about the divergent timelines, the asterisk up there (*): as I'm relying more on the Rebirth, I took the last time I saw our Timothy appearing there in Detective Comics n. 981.
> 
> I'm not going to go into that topic right now, but what I can say that is important for you in these final notes is: Tim moved away from Batfamilia because he wanted to dedicate himself to studying the divergent timelines, remnants that his “me of the future” gave him.
> 
> Anyone who wants to can run there and try to understand what all this means, but it won't be important now. Let it be that when Tim goes to have his conversation with Bruce, I will explain this whole story better.


	22. Tested

— Prepare for immobilization, active sedation — the nurse communicated — hearing protectors not yet fitted.

— I do not want...! — Damian tried to get up, but the dizziness made him lie down again — Daddy! Dad, I don't want to!

— Let's wait until he falls asleep... — the technique suggested, placing him correctly on the exam table once again.

— I SAID I DON'T WANT! I DO NOT WANT! — the child screamed again, squirming as he could.

— You are such a beautiful boy, Damian. Why don't you behave for the exam? I promise it will be quick and it won't hurt... — very kind, the technician tried to calm him down — Would you like me to call your dad to stay here until you sleep?

— I don't want to sleep, I don't want to take any exams, I just want to go home! — he insisted, trying to get up again.

— Call his father — she asked the nurse.

— I cannot, Mr. Wayne is still in absolute rest.

— ... What happened to my dad? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY FATHER!? — Damian started to squirm again in a vain attempt to get away, he had to be immobilized by the two employees.

Alfred, who watched everything from the monitoring room, ran over to his child to try to calm him down. How he managed to stay upright even now he didn't even know, but he was always willing enough to take care of Damian alone - Bruce, who had ignored all signs of a possible heart attack, was being kept at rest.

— He is taking a nap — the butler lied. With a silent request, he made the nurse and the technician walk away — After the exam, I can take you to him...

— Mr. Pennyworth, I do not want to do exams! — the little one begged — I don't want to stay here! Take me home, please!

The butler did not know what to say.

It had been days since they used the same excuse of "tomorrow will be the last exams", but they never were. Dr. Garner always came up with new orders, always giving the same justification: “the results were inconclusive. We need new ones”.

— I also do not want you to remain here, Master Damian — he squeezed the little boy's cheek — Neither your father.

— Then take me home... — he asked again, fighting the effect of the medication he had taken.

— If you behave, the exam will end soon. Then I will take you to see your father and, if all is well, let's go.

— Promise?

— Promise! — the elderly man smiled. Only Damian's kind and innocent way could make him forget his problems for a few minutes.

— ... Mr Pennyworth, when we return home... — Damian yawned, closing his eyes and finally giving himself up to sleep — ... I want... very, very much... to play in the garden... with the Titus... and...

— You will be able to play all you want, Master Damian — He squeezed his cheek again, realizing that the little one was already asleep — What kind of tranquilizer did they use and in what quantity? I've never seen him sleep so fast ..

— Only Dr. Garner can divulge this type of information, I am sorry — The technician smiled, trying to look nice — Let's get him ready for the MRI exam, can you wait in the next room, please?

The butler nodded and left.

Rather than watching Damian asleep in the exams, he preferred to go to Dr. Garner and demand information about what medications were giving that child to sleep so fast. Alfred knew that medicines were often changed to "find out which one would best suit Damian's needs", but there were limits that could not be crossed: it was a child!

He walked down the halls, searched the doctor's office and tried to get information from the receptionist, but he couldn't find Dr. Garner anywhere.

Resigned to having lost almost fifteen minutes in a fruitless search, Pennyworth went to see how Bruce was doing. Her “son” also needed care - he was overwhelming herself with all those frustrations.

After two light taps on the door, he entered the room. It was the room next to where Damian was "staying".

— Master Wayne, the young Master Damian is... Oh! — The butler tried to contain his joy, but let out a simple smile — An unexpected visit, but very welcome.

— Believe me, Pennyworth, I felt very welcome with all the refusals of this gentleman to give me information! — Lois Lane, the journalist at Daily Planet, was just like a longtime friend making a casual visit.

— I have ten minutes to answer any question that he has refused... — The eldest said keeping his smile, checking the time on his pocket watch - he already knew by heart how long those exams took.

— Is Damian doing any exams? Was he nervous? — Bruce was already preparing to remove the serum attached to his arm, he wanted to go see his son.

— Now I understand the "inconsequential father died leaving his children orphans" — The reporter said with some grace, preventing Bruce from doing what he wanted — He needs to be well to be able to take care of Damian, Bruce.

— If trying to be heard would solve anything, Ms. Lane... — Alfred sighed, tired.

— I know what's going on: I have my own tough head at home! — She ended up laughing — I already have a new headline: “After a heart attack, a millionaire is still inconsequential”

— And I think that you would not make the same mistakes Clark did in placing such big titles... — the millionaire grunted, annoyed at being the target of the pins because he was too worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lois Lane is the illustrious journalist of Daily Planet. She has a strong personality, which is essential in her profession - which makes her stand out much more than Kent -, a personality trait that drew her father, Sam Lane, a general.
> 
> To prove that she is not to be trifled with: when Superman tried to protect her and her son by hiding them in the lunar Batcave, she wore the infernal costume (one of Batman's armor) and went to fight, saving her son from the hands of an Eradicator (Superman No. 5, Renaissance). In fact, she kept one of the armor's gloves and used it again to save her son.
> 
> Speaking of saving his son, nothing can stop this girl when she wants to save someone: she already drove the spaceship to save a friend (n. 12), she already drove the Batmobile (n.22) and apparently she can manage anything that have a steering wheel - or something! Not even losing one leg temporarily stopped it (no. 23)!
> 
> As if the infinity of qualities that this heroine without a cape were not enough, here's a very idiotic curiosity: she almost married millionaire Bruce Wayne! That's because she thought the bat was actually the man of steel.
> 
> There are several scenes of the two of them causing jealousy in "Smalville" in the animated series of Superman. I highly recommend researching these snippets on YouTube, it's so much fun!
> 
> Note to note: According to Jon, his mother is super-hearing and can read thoughts. According to herself, she doesn't have super-hearing, but she has eyes on the back of her neck! kkks


	23. Extra

It was not difficult for Lois to find her own car in the small parking lot.

She looked around as she opened the door. It was a picturesque view: the orange sky, the garden still flooded with the light of the setting sun, the silhouette of the tall buildings of Metropolis in the background... it was no wonder that Damian had drawn that view so many times - Bruce made sure to show it, very proud, the drawings that the son already managed to make.

— Time for the difficult part of being a reporter... — She murmured to herself.

Lois fastened her seat belt, fastened her cell phone to the dashboard, and prepared to start talking. I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

— I'm going back to the Daily Planet now. Apparently I'll spend the night searching for tomorrow's story... — She sighed — I can't talk about the Wayne, not after what I saw...

The reporter took advantage of being on the empty track to check if the message was being recorded. He also took the opportunity to see the sky again, which was beginning to have darker tones: there was no Superman or Superboy flying around.

— It started when I finished the interview with Bruce. We had a long conversation about everything, especially how easy it was for a reporter to get into that place again... you know, Smalville was first — she whispered the last part as if it were a secret — Actually, the first was Jon: he saw when they arrived in the bay... Where did Bruce get the idea that he would arrive discreetly on a yacht?

Lois was silent for a few seconds: he had to control himself not to curse some idiot who almost hit her car - Why go so fast on an empty track!?

— Alfred arrived and helped me with some loose things... I missed his cookies! — He let a few laughs escape, these laughs that soon turned into a nervous laugh and, at last, it passed away — It was... it was right after that — She sighed, mentally counted to five and returned to the tone of a professional reporter — Jon entered the room screaming ... he came in through the window. Jon came in through the window shouting that they needed to go and save Damian. H-He ... he should be doing an exam, just an exam! — by that time, the professional tone had already evaporated.

The reporter stopped talking.

He had to park the car on the shoulder to wipe away the tears that stubbornly ran down his cheek. It took a few seconds for them to stop.

— It was so fast! I don't even know how I left my son behind while chasing Batman through the halls, but I knew why Bruce was acting like he was wearing the uniform, instead of just being a millionaire recovering from an almost heart attack... — Lois sniffed and almost got out of control again — ... If he hadn't broken the door, I don't even know what could have happened! The nurses were trying to hold on to Damian, it's like they wanted to hide what was going on and continue with that exam and...!

She stopped and let the crying go.

Now, no longer caring about the conditions to finish that story, the reporter began to speak in a choked voice:

— Bruce pushed everyone away, released Damian from those clips and hugged him. I don't know if I would have enough courage, I can't even imagine my Jonathan like that, without being able to help him...! — After taking a few deep breaths, he resumed: — He was shaking so much! A-And ... there was... there was foam, a reddish foam coming out of his mouth! I thought he was going to die! Damian, Damian was like that and...! He's only three years older than my son, only three! He's a child too...!

She cried to the point of sobbing - life really wasn't being fair. What comforted her was how dedicated that inconsequential millionaire was being with his son.

— I don't think they're doing a good job there. I heard murmurs that "the toxin was not effective enough for complete restraint" and I intend to find out what that means... — Lois took a deep breath, trying to stop the crying and return to the professional tone — That place did not seem safe to me. After that, all the complaints that Jon made started to make sense. If I had listened... Clark...

The journalist started the car again, the report was coming to an end.

— I wouldn't say that in front of Bruce and much less Pennyworth, they are too overwhelmed. I sent Jon home and I hope he'll be there when I get there. I just want to forget all this during dinner, I don't want to be crying next to my boys... — She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, getting ready to get back on the track — You are the only one who can get them out of that place without explosions, shouting and anything else that makes more journalists go there. Honestly, I don't know how many of them are not ready as vultures...

She took the phone out with one hand, ready to end that message.

— I know you will only see this when you return from patrol. Bruce said that you are helping the boys... oh, no! — she let a discreet laugh escape, remembering something good from that visit — he said: "cat is helping my children, but she calls every day to find out about our puppy". I never imagined hearing something like that from him... — And, with a more serious tone, she finished: — Save them, Selina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the couples meeting in Batman n. 37 (Renaissance), Lois and Selina became friends. The two talked a lot while Bruce and Clark argued about the biggest question that could permeate that moment: if Batman could hit a baseball pitch from Superman (no, it's not a joke. The two spent the entire tour discussing this).
> 
> Poor Alfred is just omitting how bad things are at that clinic because he doesn't want to worry Dick and Jason.
> 
> Now about the crisis of Damian: during a seizure, it is common for spittle to come out of the person's mouth (in the form of foam too), so it is important to turn him on his side so he doesn't choke. I'll leave it open here, because frothing is something relatively common in a crisis, the reddish foam can be due to some injury that Damian himself made in his mouth... or some effect of that toxin (not necessarily something bad, maybe he just dyed it his mouth).


	24. Extra

Gotham City was bleak, especially in the late twilight.

The buildings with their sharp architectures, which cast elongated shadows on each other, prevented the light that managed to pass through the always cloudy sky from reaching the ground. The headlights of cars in motion resembled the eyes of night predators. The lights in the apartments made people looking out the window look like spectators of the horrifying spectacle that the city was able to provide with its criminality.

Jonathan, who didn't like being there alone, tried not to be afraid of everything. Seeing his best friend being tortured by sadistic doctors had been enough for the day... for the days, as he dedicated himself to watching Damian's entire stay from that window at that neurological center in Metropolis - Tortured! Because he knows very well what he saw, regardless of how much adults try to convince him otherwise!

The young hero sneaked over the buildings, not wanting to arouse the interest of Gotham's night watchmen, let alone the outlaws they fought. His goal was far from the city center, it was Wayne Mansion. There he would have time to explain himself.

When Jon finally arrived in front of the doors of the mansion, still surprised by his great performance being stealthy, he was not sure what he was going to do. If not even the parents themselves had believed his version of the facts, he would not be one of the "sons of Batman" who would believe - they, without exception, seemed to be neurotic.

He was left to think: what would Damian do now? What would he tell him to do?

He stared at the big door, wondering if he should just go in or ring the doorbell and wait for someone. However, before he could make up his mind, a tall guy opened the door and stared at him in silence with a judgmental look.

— E-Er ... Hi! I-I... I am... Jo-Jonathan and I-I... — Feeling his cheeks redden as he fumbled with what he should say, Jon just wanted Damian to be there to explain the whole situation in his place — You... You know Damian, right?

— A dwarf brat who lives here? Yes, if I am not mistaken he is the son of my adoptive father or something... — Jason rolled his eyes — He cannot go out to play now, it is off yet.

— No! Is not it! I-I... — The youngest took a deep breath and decided to take courage, after all, one of Damian's brothers - whom he insisted on not considering as _**brothers**_ \- could help him — I know where Damian is and I know he is sick, you don't have to pretend with me! But someone needs to **save him** , they are doing **terrible things** with Dami in that place and...!

— Hey, hey... — Todd murmured, chuckling at the end — Since I don't have to pretend, Superboy, how about this: save the stinky brat yourself. **That's not my problem**! — And closed the door.

Jonathan felt his eyes sting, but he forced himself to swallow his tears and tried to think of what to do. He hated to admit this kind of thing, but it really was a stupid idea to go there. Now, going downtown and looking for someone didn't seem to be effective - that place seemed to have ears in every gap. Besides, Nightwing should be busy and overwhelmed... and he probably wouldn't believe him.

Jon also didn't want to leave and ignore his friend in need of help, nor could he try to save him. It's not like I haven't tried, but just getting close to Damian is enough for him to have a "crisis".

— THEY ARE TORTURING IT! — he shouted, floating in front of the windows where the other one passed, he would try again — THEY USE DAMIAN FOR EXPERIMENTS! — continued, no matter how much he was being ignored — NOBODY BELIEVES IN ME, **HAS TO SAVE DAMIAN**! — When he noticed that Jason was going to enter a door away from windows, he started banging against the glass trying to get attention — WILL KILL HIM!!! **HE'S YOUR BROTHER**!!!

Jason Todd, tired of that annoying child, drew one of the guns. If Jonathan wanted attention, now he had it: he unloaded the bullets at the armored window, leaving Jon terrified that he had served as a target. The boy, who had already shut up, just stared at the marks on the window glass with teary eyes, was proof that _**no one believed him**_.

The boy wanted to go home and hide from all the problems that were surrounding him under the blankets. However, he went back to the door and sat there. He would wait as long as it was before he could talk to someone else. He would only leave Gotham when he got someone's help - and if he didn't, at least he would have time to devise an excuse good enough to have disobeyed his mother.

And he stayed there for minutes... for over an hour.

Time did not seem to pass, neither could he think of anything.

— ... Hey... — Jason murmured, opening the door again — Are you up for something to eat?

— ... Will you help Damian? — Hopefully, Jon looked at Jason as if he were practically an angel.

— No, but I made a noodle for you. The best hospitality I have, should be flattered! — The eldest leaned against the door, he didn't seem as bothered as before.

— ... But will you help Damian? — As much as he tried to remain firm in his goals, his super growing belly of a boy was already snoring.

— If you keep asking questions, it will get cold.

— I-I accept, but only because I love noodle! — the little one replied blushing, entering the mansion as if he were dropping his pride outside. He already knew the way to the kitchen by heart, even though the darkness inside that place made him afraid — ... And because I need to convince you to save Damian! I know that the two of you are not quite like real brothers... not that it is because you are adopted! O-Or because it's troublemaker! ... You are Jason, right? So: I know you two haven't gotten along as brothers since that misunderstanding, but if you even believe me, we can...! — Jon fell silent when he realized he was alone in that place — ... Jason?

Without any response, the child continued walking down the hall until he finally reached the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the mansion, the lights were on and it seemed to be an inhabited place - since, on the counter, there was a bowl of noodle still smoking.

Damian needed help, however, it is not polite to undo it, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The misunderstanding between Damian and Jason happened at the annual Teen Titans (Renaissance). Basically, the two fought because Damian suspected that Jason had betrayed him as an informant. Jason Todd beat him in the fight to show that the Demon Wayne can't be suspicious of everyone like that, let alone go after people for nothing when he's still just a kid with a lot to learn - especially that covers are dangerous.
> 
> I am saving a presentation from Jon for when he will appear in a chapter, instead of in an Extra.
> 
> For now, I can tell you the following:
> 
> He is Damian's best friend. Not only because they fought crime together in Super Sons, but really because they end up getting along: in DCeased, Damian is at his house playing video games when the whole zombie problem happens; in the Super Sons Adventure, Jon would vacation at Wayne Mansion. Speaking of Super Sons, in the end it is very clear that they will continue to be good friends even when they are old (however much it all leads to understanding a possible “disunity” at some point).
> 
> Now imagine the desperation of poor Jonathan...
> 
> Note from Note: in Super Sons, chapter 15, Jon states that he will only marry with a noodle.


	25. Rescue

— I do not want, I do not want, I do not want... — Damian murmured and shook his head from side to side, it was the little he could do since the rest of the body was numb and immobilized. They had taken him for an "urgent examination", they didn't even wait for Pennyworth to authorize it.

— He must fall asleep soon... — the nurse commented while checking some information on the monitor.

— If there are no results this time, I will have to be more drastic — Dr. Garner said annoyed, approaching Damian — It would be a shame to have to open you to get the answers I want, Damian. So be a good boy and collaborate this time — he threatened, holding the little boy's face by the cheeks.

— ... no! — He tried to sound brave, when in fact he just wanted to be saved.

— Increase the dose of the medicine, he should have already slept — the doctor ordered and, when he received no answer, looked around behind the nurse — What!?

Dr. Garner did not have time to say a word: he was hit with a left-hand punch fast enough that he could not react - just like the nurse. Now, without further witnesses, Batman's rebellious son dared to approach his younger brother:

— Brat?

— Take me home, please! Please! Jason, I don't want to do any more exams! I do not want! Do not let! — he despaired, afraid of being just imagination playing tricks. Damian hadn't even realized that he had been crying for a long time.

— Damian, be quiet! — Todd said, surprised when he was obeyed at the same time, despite some hiccups — I'm going to get you out of here, but you'll have to be quiet... and calm — he warned, looking for anything that could help him. He had arrived there in civilian clothes, he didn't want your image linked to the kidnapping of a millionaire's son — When Bruce knows... it's not like I care, but you're in the middle. And you are sick — he explained, looking even in the doctor's lab coat — It is not right to kidnap sick children.

— Yes it is! — Damian was shaking with fear of his brother leaving him there.

— Quiet! — Jason sent again, giving up the search — Can you walk? — When receiving a negative nod, Todd snorted and put his hands on his waist — Great, I love the hard way... — He rolled his eyes, still didn't believe he was "saving" Damian from that place, especially without even knowing how he was going to do it — Can you pretend to be... Damian? — The little one had fallen asleep, probably due to the medications that Dr. Garner had given him.

Jason released him from the examining table and placed him in a wheelchair, in which Damian had been brought there. The next step was to put on the doctor's lab coat and go out with Damian - the safety of that clinic was not so worrying.

When they finally reached the parking lot, in the backyard, the older guy noticed that he didn't think much before acting, in fact he hadn't thought about anything: he wouldn't be able to take his little brother on the motorcycle - even more with him sleeping. It remained, then, to take the car of the "father". He could already imagine all the topics that Bruce would address in the sermon when he took him away from the Batfamily again.

— It is for a good deed... — Jason justified to himself, opening the door with his tricks learned over the years.

He picked up Damian and put him in the passenger seat, strapping him on. He ran a hand over his brother's face, trying to wipe away the tear marks. As for the marks of the moorings that had been used on him in the exams, there was little to do but hide them: he put the jacket he wore before him, as if Damian were just a child who fell asleep on a car trip - which On the whole, it wasn't exactly a lie.

After that, everything went smoothly: the tension and adrenaline boiled down to a simple desire to get home right away. The drive through the bay that separated the two cities was relaxing and without traffic - there was no lunatic threatening people on that beautiful Tuesday night.

Everything continued on in the most extreme silence, until the child woke up scared, screaming, causing Jason to pull over to try to calm him down - luckily, there was no movement on that stretch of highway

— NO!

— Damian...

— … I DO NOT WANT!

— Damian!

The youngest fell silent for a few seconds, finally seeming to notice that he was no longer in an exam room. He looked around, looked at Jason and then tried to break free.

— What are you going to do? — the eldest watched him loosen his seat belt, imagined he would try to get out of the car, but Damian simply threw himself on top of him and hugged him as he could — hey, brat!?

— Thank you! Thanks for getting me out of that place! I-I... I...! — the child could barely speak, he still felt fear, nervousness... tears wanting to flow again.

— You need to calm down! — Jason warned, embracing him with some reluctance, seeing it only as a necessary measure to keep the brat safe from himself — And stop thanking me. And… and stop with that crying face!

— I-I'm sorry — he asked, trying to stay strong. The truth is that of Damian's strength he had absolutely nothing, on the contrary: if at some point in his life he was weak and helpless, it was that.

The two returned to silence.

Jason partly felt bad for the youngest, mostly because he didn't know how to comfort him. Damian kept hugging him trying to stop crying, which only made it worse: after everything he had done for that little boy, Jason was still seen as a savior.

— Brat... — he called, when he started to think that Damian had fallen asleep again.

— Hun? — Looked at him with green eyes, still red from crying. He was already calmer, but he still looked so… _**fragile.**_

Fragile like a child who has just broken - regardless of whether it was with a crowbar or a threatening doctor. In the end, it was not the means that mattered, but the result that those torturing monsters brought to the victims: the breaking of any hope they had.

At least Damian was being saved, an opportunity that little Jason didn't have, which he could give the other child now, however.

— I will not let you get there again, okay? — smiled in a corner, ruffling his brother's spiky hair.

— Kay! — was enough for him to smile, as if he had already forgotten everything.

— And now we go home.

The youngest, understanding what that meant, returned to the seat. His leg was still sore and he didn't know exactly how to keep it immobile without the splint, but he did his best not to give his older brother trouble.

— Very well, now the seat belt — Damian obeyed him, although he fumbled a little until he managed to fit the lock — Ok... and now the jacket — Jason said after picking up the jacket that had been thrown on the floor of the car during the little confusion.

— But it is not cold...

— It is not cold... **yet** — And, with a corner smile, he activated the best option that a BMW convertible could have: remove the hood.

It took a few seconds for Damian to look surprised at that and finally put on his jacket. He still had no real sense of all the luxury that surrounded him as a Wayne.

Jason, who was beginning to find that version of little Demon Wayne amusing, asked:

— Hungry? — When he received a positive nod, he put his hands on the steering wheel and prepared to take advantage of all the speed of that car in conjunction with a clean track — Let's solve this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killing a curiosity that perhaps some people now have: after all, Metropolis and Gotham are how far away from each other?
> 
> As perhaps many know, comics are divided into several "ages", such as the Golden Age, Silver Age, Bronze Age, Modern Age and so on. Writers usually need to make a big overview of the changes that have taken place in the characters from age to age. Many things start to “count” while others are “discarded”. Add that to the fact that a “dark” city is next to a “cheerful” city and you will have a very difficult contrast to fit in - and because of that, so altered.
> 
> So, these two big cities are really close to each other, but they are DIVIDED by a bay (at least, most of the time). Some relate the proximity of the two to being between Oakland and San Francisco; others list them as Delaware and New Jersey. The only constant thing is that the two are close to the sea and that, in the words of Bem Affleck, "Metropolis as a successful and healthy city, and Gotham as a place where oppressed people live".
> 
> In the fanfic: the distance between the two, by car, is almost three hours. So Bruce chose to cut his way with his beautiful boat so he could get to the clinic soon.


	26. Moonlight

Jason parked the car in a section outside the road maps. It was just the top of a cliff by the sea, with the trail hidden by almost undergrowth. The moonlight was beautiful with its reflection in the water.

— You know, I used to come here when B and I... — The boy thought a little better about what he was going to say, he couldn't speak the truth — ... When we fought. In fact, when we fought and even then he left the car keys where I could reach — He smiled.

— ... And you and my father fought a lot? — Damian finally stopped staring at the moon and looked at his brother.

— Often.

— Why?

— ... Because we have different views on some things.

— Is that why they say you are a rebel? — it was remarkable how curious the little one was to know more about his brother.

— I'm much worse than that, brat! — Jason laughed, taking off his seat belt — Everybody argues with Bruce sometimes: Dick, Babs, Duke, you... — he enumerated while taking what they had bought in a fast food on the way.

— Even Mr. Pennyworth?

— Alfred does not need to argue with anyone, he is better than Batman — The older man let out a laugh, especially when he noticed his brother's sulky face — Ah, Dami... It's just a joke, okay?

— It is not that, that... that name you said... — He was confused.

— ... Alfred? — He repeated — Damian, what was it? Are you feeling anything? — Jason started to loosen the small one of the seat belt — Damian?

— My ear is hurting... — he whispered, squeezing his own head tighter — ... a lot! — He was distressed, mainly because the ringing in the ear bothered him and the pain, as stabbing as a stab, left him inane.

Damian started to lose track of what was going on. He could only think of that horrible pain and how it, no matter how bad it was, seemed to be nothing compared to what he had felt before - as much as the little one did not remember, he managed to **know that**.

Todd, who was already on the verge of despair, had no idea what to do. Taking Damian to a hospital would undoubtedly trigger a crisis, but staying with him and not being able to do anything was a bad idea...

— **It's gonna be okay!** — Lied, not even knew what was happening — I will not let anything happen to you, not again! — He took his brother on his lap, took him out of the car and sat with him on the floor, repeating: — **Everything will be fine**.

That was all he could do... _**so little.**_

He had been paying attention to Alfred the day he hurt Damian: the butler put him on the floor so he wouldn't get hurt any more and kept his calm - calm that Jason needed now.

The child kept squeezing his head, he didn't even know the strength with which he did this - he just wanted the pain to pass soon, before he did anything stupid. He just sizzled nonsense and huddled in his brother's arms.

— Damian?... What's wrong with you? — Jason asked uncertain if that was an epileptic seizure or something else — Apparently... is the ear hurting? Dick told me that you hurt your ear and... That's it! It's just an earache, right? No pinscher crises! — He ended up letting out a low laugh — I can't believe I almost panicked because you have an earache, brat...

The boy took the little boy's hands and made him loosen his head, little by little - he didn't want to let him end up getting hurt. Damian, scared as he was, clung to his wayward brother as if it worked to lessen the pain - it was almost as effective as pressing where it hurt.

— I already had an earache when I was little, soon it passes... — Jason sighed, he was calm enough to see that situation as a rare moment of "taking care of his younger brother" — ... everything will be fine — smiled, touching the hair of the brother to try to calm him — Then we will eat those french fries before they get cold, we will go home and play video games...

— It **hurts a lot**... — Damian whispered in a choked voice.

— Weren't you looking at the moon? She is beautiful today... — Todd whispered — And look at all this water, with Metropolis there at the other end: you were there...

— **Really** **hurts** — he murmured.

— Metropolis is a bit dull, but there is a friend of yours who lives there...

— Jason…

— Then you could send him a message or something, I think he is your only real friend. I also have a nice friend, his name is Roy... — The oldest was already running out of business to continue with that, but he knew that the best he could do now was to make his brother ignore the pain.

— ... Jay...

Jason looked at his brother at last. Damian was crying without even realizing it - he seemed to be so helpless... _**weak.**_

— **It will be okay** — He tried his best to smile, but he couldn't pretend he was okay anymore — I-I... I am with you and I will not let anything else happen... And ... And I am yours big brother, damn it! I should have protected you from everything, but I thought you were just lying again... A-And...

— The moon ... — the youngest whispered, trying his best to reach out to his brother's face and wipe away the tears that were already starting to drip, Todd also didn't notice that he was crying too — ... She's beautiful today — He smiled.

Even so helpless, Damian was still strong enough to try to make people feel safe around him... And that was how Jason felt: safe, around someone who seemed invincible now - even though he was broken. The rebel brother just wanted the "brat" to feel that way with him too.

The two continued to sit on that summit watching the moon until they stopped crying: the pain that Damian felt ended, just as Jason said it would happen, and the older one left the guilt aside and started to care more about how it could be one better brother.

He would start by taking Damian home.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will take advantage of the complete lack of ideas of what to put in this note to enter into an agreement with all readers on very important and very divergent aspects: heights, weights and ages. Remembering that I changed some things to fit the fanfic better.  
> .  
> First, Bruce Wayne:  
> Age: around 40 years old (think about Bem Afleck, whatever);  
> Height: 1,88 m (according to DC Comics)  
> Weight: 95 kg (according to DC Comics)  
> .  
> Dick Grayson:  
> Age: around 23 years old.  
> Height: 1.78 ~ 1.80 m  
> Weight: 80 ~ 82 kg  
> .  
> Jason Todd:  
> Age: around 21 years old.  
> Height: 1,83 m  
> Weight: 95 kg  
> .  
> Tim Drake:  
> Age: around 19 years old.  
> Height: 1.65 m  
> Weight: 63 kg (... ok, that made me want to pick him up and run away)  
> .  
> Damian Wayne (in this one I'm going to kick everything, since he lost muscle tone for the time he was unconscious and added even more losses in those days he was in the clinic)  
> Age: 13 years.  
> Height: 1.5 m (normally he would have about 1.53, but those 3cm are from the hair ...)  
> Weight: 45 kg (normally he would have 63 kg)  
> .  
> Note of note: I know that you use the imperial metric system, but in my country we use everything according to the international system of units.  
> Another note of note: earache is something really horrible…


	27. Extra

— Oh, Dick... Please behave...! — Selina asked like a mother tired of repeating the same words. She was talking on the phone while watching the view from the taxi window.

— _YOU WERE LYING TO ME! — the boy was screaming, he was beside himself._

— _Calm down, Dick! — Tim pleaded in the background._

— Alfred did it for your sake — she justified after a few seconds, wondering if it was better to end that call.

— _MY BROTHER DISAPPEARED! — Dick stubbornly — DISAPPEARED MORE THAN FOUR HOURS AGO!_

— Lois told me that Jon took a long time to come home yesterday, maybe it was him... — Selina tried to stay calm, but she was also worried about her _**son**_.

— We arrived, Miss — the driver warned, parking in front of the entrance gates of the neurological center — I wish luck with his son... — the elderly commented, receiving the money for the race — I have one hard head at home too, this age is really complicated... — He smiled.

— So I win: I have four... — She smiled from the corner, getting out of the car and leaving the driver jaw-dropping behind.

Selina started walking, listening to the end of that discussion among the “children”:

— _AND WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO!? — Dick asked, as irritated as before — Waiting here until Jason came up with Damian on his lap asking for help because he took him out of the middle of an important treatment!?_

— _I took him out of the middle of an exam, and I didn't exactly come to ask for help... — Jason said with some grace._

Jason was with Damian... they were fine. That was enough for her to smile and quicken her steps.

The entrance to that place was unobtrusive enough that the large building did not draw attention to the back. It looked just like a farm hotel or a kind of SPA, just near the clinic's entrance doors was a sign with the name: Institute Summ... - the rest was covered with foliage, probably the name of some neurosurgeon famous. There were also no identification signs on the way, which was off the beaten track - which made it easier for the Wayne to avoid drawing attention with their arrival.

It was 4:32 am and she sneaked into the building without any problem. The security of that place was non-existent, as if they were asking journalists or something worse to get inside...

The reception was empty, or rather, the receptionist was sleeping. No sign that the place had been invaded, that a patient had been kidnapped or something. Jason was not that stealthy: they were moving everything under the hood, or they didn't even realize what happened.

Like a good cat, she took the keys to the Wayne room and sneaked down the halls of that clinic. Not even one of the employees who used the elevator with her found anything suspicious - after all, what could be wrong with a beautiful woman visiting her boyfriend at a clinic?

She opened the door to the room where Bruce was and entered.

He was surprised by the butler sleeping in one of the armchairs, giving himself to a heavy sleep to the point of a low snore - Alfred was exhausted. Bruce slept in the bedroom bed with some devices monitoring him and some kind of medicine dripping into his vein - he probably needed to be doped after what happened in Damian's last exam.

Selina closed the door, took silent steps to the bed and lay down on Bruce... she missed being close to him like that: it had been weeks since she last saw him sleeping. It was not the time for that, however.

— Bruce... — she whispered, running the tip of her nails over his shoulder.

— Awake — he murmured without opening his eyes, hugging her.

— Great — She started to distribute some kisses by his neck until his jaw — I came to get you and Alfred... — she said quietly, next to his ear.

— And our son — he completed, smiling, finally facing her.

— No.

— You are lying — He undid the smile.

— It is not a lie, I came to get you... — She sat on the bed, she already knew what would come after that.

— ... And Damian? — He looked at her with the little hope that he still had.

— ... Someone arrived first and took him.

Bruce practically jumped out of bed, yanking everything that was attached to him as if it were nothing. Even reeling from the effects of the drugs that gave him the pressure to lower, he remained standing and ready to go after his son. Alfred, who woke up to the noise, stared at the two waiting for some kind of explanation so he could go back to sleep.

— **WHO!?** — Batman asked, because the threatening voice was his... he who was dominating Bruce's actions at that time.

Selina got up from the bed, walking over to her boyfriend and holding his face. She couldn't blame one of the children - knew it would only cause more problems later - so she just preferred to answer what was appropriate:

— He's fine, he's already home — She smiled. Alfred, upon hearing that his favorite child was fine, closed his eyes and gave himself up to sleep again.

— I asked **who** it was! — he kept his tone cool.

— You should ask **how** it was, because it seems that nobody noticed what happened here! — Selina crossed her arms, staring at him.

Bruce walked down the halls, wanted precise answers about his son and was willing to get them as needed. Selina went after him, she was not going to let her _bat_ make that "kidnapping" a scandal in the mouth of the media.

He was so overwhelmed by adrenaline, nervousness, anger - or a mixture of all that - that he didn't even wait for the elevator, he preferred to go down the stairs. Selina followed him with a sideways glance at him, knowing that Bruce was not in his best condition.

— Dr. Garner! — he grunted leaving the stairway door, already on the ground floor, going towards the receptionist. The woman woke up, ran her hand over her face and tried to think of an excuse, but Bruce didn't allow: — Where's Dr. Garner!? — hit the fist closed on the bench.

— Security room! — the woman replied, scared.

— Which way!? — Selina who asked, as threatening as her bat.

— From the left, second door! — the receptionist pointed, shrinking as much as she could to stay away from them.

Bruce tried to make his steps quieter, he didn't want to give a breach for a possible escape. Selina continued to accompany him, sharing the same tension as him - with the difference that her heart was in perfect condition, while his was still recovering from all the overload.

The cat opened the door, it was easy and fast.

— ... Yes, I have finished deleting all recordings. There is no evidence... — the doctor was talking on his cell phone while he finished cleaning the recording system — No, it wasn't the little boy with powers, it was some other... No! **You** need to find him!

— **WHO!?** — Bruce asked lifting him off the floor by the collar, he had heard more than enough.

— Mr. Wayne!? — the doctor got desperate, dropping his cell phone on the floor and breaking it — I-I was talking about another patient, your son is perfectly fine, I just had to transfer him to a more reserved wing and...!

— NO MORE LIES! — He threw the doctor over the equipment, he already considered him more dangerous than his usual enemies — WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY SON!?

— Exams! Exams to see what he has! — tried to explain — I found something, but I need more time to get a biopsy in the region! — began to try to get up, was surprised when Selina reached out to him — he is resting now!

— Damian is safe away from you and will continue like this! — Selina threw him at the bat's feet, she was equally furious with that fake doctor.

Dr. Garner squirmed, he knew that the situation would only get worse; regardless of what he said now. If he were playing with dangerous people, he needed to show that entered that game knowing the risks:

— Now I understand how your son was so hurt, Mr. Wayne... — he murmured as he was lifted by the collar again — ... It is understandable that he was so reluctant to collaborate, he wanted to protect the family name! And me thinking that that infarction principle was just out of concern for little Damian... you were afraid that I would find out everything!

Bruce let go of him, both because he understood that beating the doctor was not going to solve anything but because the excess adrenaline was starting to make him feel bad. Selina, however, did not let the doctor escape more than two steps: she hit him with a punch hard enough to knock him out. Then she walked over to the bat and hugged him - it was like someone else, just a lover worried about her partner.

— There's a taxi waiting for us at the entrance, we need to go...

— And all this mess?

— ... I know a reporter who will love to hear from it — Selina smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To simplify things in this crazy fanfic timeline:
> 
> Chapters 1, 2, 3 and 4 - They take place on the first day of everything, when Damian finally wakes up. It was already late at night!
> 
> Chapters 5, 6, 7 and 8 - The same day, the second, from morning to night.
> 
> Chapter 9, 10, 11 and 12 - They take place at dawn from the second day to the third day.
> 
> Chapters 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 and 19 - Set on the fourth day. The same day that Damian had a crisis while Dick took care of him, Bruce finally decided to take him to the doctor (the best specialist he could find, Dr. Garner). Hectic day, isn't it?
> 
> Chapter 20 - It had been 3 days since Damian started being examined by the doctor.
> 
> Chapter 21, 22, 23 and 24 - It had been 4 days since Damian started to be examined, Alfred apologized to the bat's children who stayed in Gotham so they wouldn't worry. However, even with the butler trying to make everything look good, Lois noticed that something was wrong.
> 
> Chapters 25 and 26 - Set in the early morning between the fourth and fifth days.
> 
> Now this (chapter 27) and the next (chapter 28) - It takes place in the first hours of the fifth day, with Damian finally at home again. I believe that after these, Dr. Garner will only make another appearance in the distant future...
> 
> Remembering: the chapters are usually breaks of action, breaks from one moment to another. They do not mean that a certain day or time has passed!


	28. Arrival

— _Oh, Dick... Please behave...! — Selina asked with a tired tone._

— YOU WERE LYING TO ME! — the boy was screaming, he was beside himself. He dropped his phone on the counter with the “speakerphone” option enabled.

— Calm down, Dick! — Tim pleaded, rummaging through the cabinets for more coffee.

— _Alfred did it for your sake — she justified after a few seconds._

— MY BROTHER DISAPPEARED! — Dick insisted. He was desperate, mainly because Alfred had been omitting things from him for days— DISAPPEARED MORE THAN FOUR HOURS!

— _Lois told me that Jon took a long time to come home yesterday, maybe it was him... — The woman tried to sound calm, but the concern was remarkable._

— It must be because he was eating my noodle... — Tim grunted, not caring much about the reasons that led Superboy to "steal" his meal that night — I think Jason is involved in this too, he disappeared.

— And while you were creating your theories, you didn't even think to let me know! — the eldest clapped a hand on the table — Damian is helpless, without memory, with an unknown kidnapper and all you know how to do is demand calm!?

— We cannot attract the attention of others... — Tim lifted his shoulders, embracing one of the instant coffee packages as if it were a precious commodity, a kind of magic shield that would protect him from his brother's wrath — and Jason must have taken him, is the most **obvious**.

— AND WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO!? — Dick got up, walking from side to side — Wait here, doing nothing, until Jason appears with Damian on his lap asking for help because he took him out of the middle of an important treatment!?

— I took him out of the middle of an exam, and I didn't exactly come to ask for help ... — Jason said with some grace, entering the kitchen with Damian asleep in his lap. He had heard the shouting and controlled himself to enter only at an opportune moment.

The older man said no more, just ran over to them and took the little one from Todd. He hugged Damian so tightly that he even made him murmur in his sleep.

— Don’t wake up the brat! — Jason hit him with a punch on the shoulder — It took work to make him sleep. Have you ever tried to lull someone while driving?

— And why did you kidnap Damian!? — Despite his irritation, Dick tried to control his voice.

— ... I messed him, something like that — he lifted his shoulders.

— Wow! — Tim stopped putting his beloved coffee powder in the cup and looked at the others — Ok, it's happening! Only in that way would Jason be able to say something like that! — He put a spoonful of powder in his mouth — In fact, you should have kidnapped Bruce too, I need to talk to him about the divergent lines — he said while chewing the powder - the crackles were clearly audible.

— ... We should call Stephanie and let them know that Timmy is broken, — Jason suggested.

— Nothing to include more people in this and not even atract attention — Dick repeated his father's request, leaving the kitchen with the child on his lap. The priority was to take care of Damian, he would worry about the circumstances of that kidnapping afterwards - young Timothy's problems were the last preference.

He hurried over, went up the stairs and entered his brother's room - the new room.

It took a few seconds before he had the courage to release the child. He felt that if left Damian out of his hands, he could disappear again... So small and fragile, helpless against anything - seeing Damian like that was excruciating.

— Kiddo... — Grayson whispered, putting him to bed — What did they do to you?

— Exams... — the little one whispered, finally opening his eyes. The cold bedspread made him cringe — Dick... Am I home? — he asked confused.

— Yes! —Smiled.

— Can I play in the garden? — The youngest smiled too, rubbing his eyes.

— No, little brother... — he held Damian's hands, pushing them away from his face — It's still early in the morning, better to sleep some more, okay? — He kissed him on the forehead.

— ... Ok... — Damian whispered, he was more than willing to continue sleeping.

— Do you want to wear pajamas? Alfred said you love them... — Dick asked as he ran his fingertips through his brother's hair. The truth is that seeing Damian in those hospital clothes made it worse - mainly because it reminded him that the little one should be there, not at home.

— No... — he replied softly.

— Why not? — The older one raised his eyebrows.

— ... It's warm — Damian tried to explain, hugging himself with the jacket Jason had loaned him.

— Just for that? You're not shy, are you?

— Damian, obey Dick and change clothes... — Jason's request, which was already at the door with the family nerd, was enough for the younger brother to sit on the bed and start taking off his jacket. Saving the little one ended up triggering a kind of submission or something...

— Has he lost his memory or been replaced by a more improved version of himself? — Tim asked, staring at his notebook on his lap.

— You can only give opinions when you know everything... — Jason scolded the second youngest.

— If you explained to me what is happening...

— You will only know everything when Bruce comes back, or when he stops acting like... that... — The eldest searched for a word good enough to describe that state that Tim was in - he seemed to have lost part of the reason for lack of rest.

— Help? — Damian asked slyly, raising his arms to be helped with the shirt.

That childish and sweet request was enough for the little one to steal all the attention. Dick helped him with all the delicacy he had, especially after noticing some marks on his brother's torso and arms. Jason went to the closet to get something that made Damian comfortable. Drake, unlike the brothers, just stared at Damian as if he expected something - perhaps a surprise attack.

— Are these marks from the exams? — Asked, approaching them — It seems that someone was arresting you... been misbehaving, Damian?

Little Wayne's eyes watered instantly. He tried to hide, he was even pouting for that cruel accusation... mainly because it came from a still "stranger" who was watching him from top to bottom.

— Stop, Timmy... — the eldest scolded the other, caressing the youngest's face — He is just sulky, doesn't care about him — He smiled.

— I bet you attacked someone, gremlin — Drake continued, approaching the bed a little more, wanted to analyze the “impostor” better — Can you tell the truth: what did you do to get stuck like that? It must have really upset the B this time...

The little one, by this time, was already crying with the dubious statements that the “unknown” made about him. He didn't want to think that was true, but the torturous exams seemed more like a cruel punishment than anything els ... _ **what could he have done to irritate his father so much?**_

Dick and Jason looked at each other, the two didn't want Damian to continue that way.

— Stop talking this shit! — Jason sent, stared at Drake while handing the change of clothes so that Dick would dress the little one — You don't know what happened, you don't know what's going on and I don't want you to annoy Dami! — he warned, seeing Tim as if he were an enemy - he was too protective.

— I-I'm not bothered... — the little one whispered trying to end that fight. He knew that his former ways caused people to loathe, he had become accustomed to being confronted before they realized that he was no longer guilty of anything.

— The sooner you sleep, you will be able to wake up earlier and play more outside ... — Grayson tried to hide all the concern he felt to calm Damian. He held out the jacket for the little one to wear again - it was still warm, maybe it would help him sleep soon.

— Dami, remember the moon? She was beautiful... — Jason sat on the bed, pulling the little one onto his lap. Now he looked like someone else, he tried to sound even kind — Be calm... — he asked.

Tim rolled his eyes and shrugged. He preferred to see that childish explosion as a kind of _**emotional blackmail**_... Damian was not like that and a simple loss of memory would not make that much difference.

He threw himself on the bedroom chair and went back to fiddling with the notebook. As much as he tried to focus on the results of the simulations, the theme "Damian behaving like a baby" left him abstracted - mainly because the two older idiots fell into that scene.

Dick had filled him with messages about the little demon, from waking up without any memory to even suffering from an incurable disease, whose name would only be said if they had confirmation by exams - an ominous preventive measure. Now Drake saw everything as just overkill.

He had to admit: Damian was playing that game very well, he managed to trick even Jason into staying with him... he probably had chosen him as a "play" if he needed to do something against his father - if he wasn't already, too, another one of his loyal pieces.

Now, more than ever, Tim was looking forward to talking to Bruce.

Perhaps Damian was involved with that point of reflection out of context; he was probably hiding the game because of this - until he had some advantage in the whole situation so as not to be punished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor you, Timothy J. Drake, for not yet believing in our little, helpless Damian. As an investigator, you must be looking for a concrete clue that the little brother is really bad...
> 
> I think it's interesting to explain something previous here, so that everyone understands that Timmy has his reasons for distrusting his little brother (just like Jason had his):
> 
> Damian has never had an exactly "good" relationship with Tim. Damian is extremely jealous with those he likes (his father and older brother), people with whom Tim has lived for much longer than he. It only got worse when Dick (with Bruce's "death") took on the bat cloak and made Damian his Robin - taking over from Timbo.
> 
> Taking into account these antecedents that may have resulted in hurt accumulated in Red Robin - Tim's current title - little's heart as much as he even went to “hell” to help save Damian, it is justifiable that he is so suspicious. Mainly because he believes that the little brother is involved in something big and dangerous related to the divergent lines.
> 
> In fact, the way Damian simply disappeared until he was found led Timmy to believe he was on the wrong side. Now, with this sudden “memory loss”, Damian would not have to bear any responsibility for what he did.


	29. Discharged

— It is better to sleep some more... — Selina suggested while putting one of Bruce's arms around her shoulders — ... you look terrible.

— It was three hours in a taxi... — Wayne mumbled. However, he did not refuse to receive help.

— Alfred also stayed in the same taxi for three hours and it seems perfectly fine — she said, looking in the distance at the butler who was walking from side to side putting everything he could in order — Bruce, you need to rest.

— I need to know how my son is doing.

— He is fine — She held him a little more tightly, they were about to start climbing the stairs that led to the second floor, where the rooms were — And you need to be well to take care of him...

— Why is everyone so stubborn with me? I just want to see my son and talk to him.

Selina chose not to continue that discussion.

The two walked slowly up the steps, and as they approached Damian's room, they could hear more laughter and lively conversation more clearly. They were getting along...

— Tries to remain calm — It was everything the cat asked before opening the door and leaving her boyfriend there. She knew that this moment was up to him and his children, mainly because she would not agree if he took any mitigation measures with anyone.

Bruce mumbled something close to an "ok" and continued to stand in front of the door for a few seconds, listening to the children's discussion before interrupting them:

— I want a rematch! — Jason said irritably. At first glance, you couldn't tell if he was bothered by the lost game or with Richard practically thrown at him.

— Accept as soon as you lost, five to zero is enough shame! — Tim said between laughs.

— You are only winning because Dick is not perched on you! — the other replied.

— I was exactly like that when Bruce beat you the other time... — Grayson remembered between laughter — Give the control to Dami, come on!

— For me? — the little one, who until that moment had only been content to watch, seemed almost flattered by that — But I will lose worse than Jay…

— Hey!

— I'll take it easy with you, gremlin — Drake smiled looking at his younger brother. He was the only one sitting on the floor, making sure their faces were at the same height.

After that awful first impression between them, it was enough for Tim to sleep for a few hours until he realized that as much as Damian was "pretending", it didn't necessarily imply anything bad - in fact, he was much preferring this improved version and obedient to the demon Wayne. The little one, incidentally, barely remembered what had happened at dawn; which helped Timmy to be presented to him as a “nerdy and cool” brother, instead of that “bad guy” impression.

— Thanks, Tim — the youngest smiled awkwardly, finally accepting control.

— Before starting another match of Dirt Rally without me, I would like to clarify some points... — Bruce took advantage to began his speech rehearsed mentally throughout the Metropolis path until then. The children kept their eyes on him, looks that intensified even more when the eldest stood between his children and the TV. He took a deep breath and caught the attention of the first “victim”: — Dick.

— B? — the boy responded by sitting properly on the bed.

— You did a good job in my absence... — When he started to get a smile from Grayson, he added: — But you need to stop being so impulsive towards your brother. If Jason hadn't arrived, what would you do? You would look for them without knowing where to start?

— ... Sorry — There were no other words for him to say.

— Tim...

— Yes, Bruce? — the boy looked at him. He was almost as finished as his father: dark circles, red eyes, tiredness on his face... all that was left was stubble - or rather, some sign of beard.

— ... Rest, we'll talk later.

Resentful, Timmy got up and left the room. Dick went with him, he didn't want to hear the end of that conversation.

— ... You don't even have to say anything, Bruce... — Jason murmured, getting up too — I'm going to pack my things.

— As well? — Damian stared at his brother — Jason, where are you going? — He tried to get up too, but all he had to do was force his injured leg to change his mind.

— Stay calm, brat... I'll send you news, okay? — the rebel smiled trying to look good with that, when in fact the only thing that prevented him from throwing himself at his father's feet and begging to stay there - with that chance to be able to pretend that everything was fine - was pride.

— Jason, you didn't even let me speak — The older man said after a long sigh.

— Say what? That I let you down again; that I am an awkward rebel; that I better get away before I do something wrong or... — Jason couldn't finish listing all the possible mistakes he has already made - lucky him, because there were many before he got to his brother's kidnapping and BMW theft.

— You did the right thing and... — Bruce interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder — ... I'm proud of you.

— ... Are you... are you proud of me?

— Yes.

— ... F-From me...? — Todd tried to think of how to react, but the words just tangled in his throat. The eyes prickled. He left the room before Bruce had a chance to deny what he had said, murmuring just one: — ... until breakfast.

Damian was still looking at the door, hoping that at least one of the three would come back to play with him some more. He didn't want to be there alone, and as much as his father was there with him, all he had to do was remember that the stay in that hospital would make his mind refuse Bruce as some kind of protection as effective as the brothers.

— Damian? — the eldest called him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

— Dad, Jason won't be leaving, will he? If he didn't say goodbye, it's because he won't, right? — He asked to be sure.

— No, he will not go... — Bruce ended up smiling — Is he a good older brother?

— Yes! Dick is too! — The little one smiled and faced the door once more - keeping himself hopeful - but soon he conformed to the lonely reality.

— What about Tim? Did he treat you well?

— He is strange, but he seems to be… smart.

Damian looked at the TV, his father ended up repeating his gesture. And so the two were silent facing the game paused ... Bruce needed to gather a lot of courage for the next question:

— Damian, can you forgive me?

— ... Why? — The little one stared at some point on the floor. He knew the reason for that request, but he wanted to understand what Bruce had done wrong - because he considered himself the one to blame for something, not his father.

— For having kept you in that place against your will; for letting you be afraid; for not noticing anything wrong... — Bruce felt his heart fail every time he spoke one of the reasons, he felt like a monster, like Dr. Garner. He had really neglected that child.

— It was for my good, wasn't it? — Although he already had tears in his eyes just for remembering, Damian wanted to face the whole terrible experience as a “necessary evil”.

— It could have been otherwise if I were not so... inconsequential — He repeated the adjective that had been attributed to him so many times — I believed it was the best for you, I ended up handing you over to the care of one...

— Evil doctor?

— Yes — Bruce ended up smiling with those words so "kind" to designate that sick being, which only made it even worse: the weight of guilt increased.

_**Heavens, Damian was just a child in the hands of a monster...** _

— When did you discover that he is evil?

— When it was too late... — he whispered, feeling as if a knife went through his chest.

_**Just an innocent child...** _

The silence settled again for what seemed like an eternity. Bruce could hear his own heart, broken and agitated, trying to get back to normal... pretending he was fine required too much effort.

— So I will not need to do more tests? — Damian finally broke that stillness, looked at his father with hopeful eyes.

_**How can he keep that look?** _

— I promise not — Bruce ruffled his son's hair, forced himself to smile.

The little one only contained all the joy he was feeling when he tried to get up and once again ended up forcing his still sore leg. However, this did not stop him from making a request:

— Can I go and play in the garden? Please?

Bruce assessed him from top to bottom: the pants were still the ones his son wore at the hospital; the top of some pajamas and Jason's jacket covered with crumbs from something they were eating in the bedroom. Apparently, the lack of memory made the little one forget even to brush his teeth: there were still remnants of a string of drool in one corner of his mouth.

— ... After the bath — finally answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT REQUEST: follow me on Facebook (laviniacrist13) or/and instagram (@laviniacrist13). This request has a reason: last week I lost access to one of my accounts and had no way of notifying anyone, I didn't even know if I could post normally or not today. They don't need to enjoy anything, comment on anything or interact with me, because I'm not that active there, it's just for me to have a way to let you know if something like this happens again.
> 
> Now about the fanfic: have you noticed how Damian is an adorable little child? Completely different from what he was before, right? Just to remember that he lost his memory and his first memories are of Dick talking to him, Mr. Pennyworth and his father telling him stories to sleep. I'm not trying to give ideas for theories, but, for example: if I forgot everything and then I was left hospitalized with a crazy doctor, I would become something even worse than the Dami from before, kks.
> 
> Note of note: the title is because Damian was discharged from the hospital... sorry, I suck at titles! Kks.


	30. Garden

— I already said you did a good job, son... — Bruce murmured for the third time between a sip of coffee and another.

He and Dick were seated at the large dining table, set with the best variety that the Wayne family butler managed to gather after almost a week away: candied fruit, coffee, milk, toasted bread and anything else that survived the Alfred's absence.

— And also said that I need to stop being so impulsive! — the eldest son rested his head on one hand — B, I am not impulsive: I would investigate and, if I didn't find anything, I would ask Tim to locate them both in some way.

— You would not... — the elder sighed and lowered the newspaper — Dick, you would despair.

— I don't despair for anything! — He raised his hands as if it were a severe accusation, then he calmed down and raised his eyebrows — ... I do?

Bruce preferred to finish his coffee in silence, paying attention only to the newspaper. The truth is that no one there was acting as he used to.

— Should I assume that child playing alone outside is Damian? He seems to me very well-disposed, for those who haven't had breakfast yet... — Alfred said as if he wants nothing, carrying a tray in one hand. There was a dessert bowl with a kind of porridge on it.

Richard looked out the window at once. There, sitting on the grass and throwing a red ball, was the child of the house. Damian seemed to be having fun with the pet, which did not rule out that he needed more specific care, especially after what happened in the past few days.

— Left him alone outside!? — Dick got up — He could fall! Or get hurt! Or have a crisis! Or...!

— Dick, sit down — the father practically sent in a serious tone. He was obeyed with a little reluctance, but obeyed — Damian is not alone, he is playing with Titus. I can see them both from the window perfectly...

— I did not know that Batman also had X-ray vision — the butler murmured.

Again, Bruce continued to pay attention only to the newspaper and the cup of hot, extra-strong coffee. After all, it is difficult to take care of a child and read the news of the day at the same time.

Richard and Alfred looked out the window. Damian was now lying on the grass trying to deal with Titus' "raw affection". The dog wagged its tail, jumped and there was little left to trample the owner with that welcome explosion. When he finally calmed down, the boy threw the ball for him to fetch again.

— Bruce, is that child lying on the grass Damain? — this time it was Selina who asked, pulling one of the chairs next to him to sit— Did you leave him outside alone?

— He is already thirteen, he has the dog and I can see him through the window! Will someone else try to call me "irresponsible father" or will I be able to finish my coffee in peace this time? — he mumbled. He was already in a bad mood.

— Did he eat anything before going out to play, Mr. “Father of the year”!? — the cat almost snarled, throwing herself sitting on the chair and willing to behave in the same grumpy way as her boyfriend.

— No, but it was because he didn't want to!

— Just as you don't rest because you don't want to! — she replied.

— Bruce, he can't go without eating just because he doesn't want to eat... — Dick said in a mild tone, trying to appease everything — And he may be thirteen, but it's not like he really has it all... and even if he did, he’s not the “little adult” Damian he was before.

— And what do you want me to do? Force him to eat? I already forced him to do too many things! — Bruce left the newspaper aside — He just wanted to be playing outside and I just wanted to have my coffee in peace!

— I can stay with him and... — Before Grayson managed to complete, Bruce interrupted him:

— Nobody's going to be with Damian! I can see him perfectly from here: he is happy doing whatever in that garden! What does it cost to let my son play!? What does it cost to let me read the newspaper !?

It exploded.

It wasn't because of Damian, the news in the newspaper or anything like that, but because of the accumulated stress that was finally finding a way to get out.

He was so enraged and inattentive that he only realized that Jason was also joining them when the boy muttered one of his jokes as he finished eating toast:

— This newspaper there, from last week, costs nothing. But if you want today, it's only five dollars — He smiled.

Bruce folded the newspaper and then put it on the table - during the process he mumbled a few things, which could only be understood “give me patience”. Selina and Dick looked at each other in an attempt to maintain their seriousness, when they were clearly almost laughing out loud. Alfred cleared his throat and held the tray out to Jayson, some excuse to get him out of there before Master Wayne had a full heart attack.

— Is it to make Damian eat this thing? — the rebel asked, putting another toast in his mouth — Did they let him play without eating before?

— He was not hungry! — Dick answered as fast as he could, he wanted to avoid stressing his father further.

— If it was for that, I wouldn't be hungry either... — he murmured taking the bowl — ... no offense, Alfred, but it looks horrible — He moved the spoon from side to side, looking at the porridge as if it was some kind of monster.

— It is the best for him — the butler justified.

Todd just shrugged his shoulders and went out into the garden with the “monster”.

Damian was still playing with Titus, throwing the ball for him to catch. He only noticed that his brother was close when Jason sat next to him and ruffled his spiky hair - which by now was covered in grass and dirt just like the rest.

— I think B will get infact when he sees you like that... — the older man smiled.

— But he let me play in the garden... — the little one looked at himself — Wasn't it for me to get dirty?

— Is not it. It's just that you don't usually behave like that...

— Am I misbehaving? — Damian's green eyes got teary just by imagining he was doing something wrong.

— No, you behave too well! — Jay let a muffled laugh escape — It is that before you did not behave so well. And he didn't behave like a child, know? Of those who are still playing... How old are you?

— Thirteen?— he asked, wasn't so sure anymore.

— But do you think you're really thirteen or feel less? You... — the older boy tried to find some way to explain himself. Damian was short for his age, in addition to the loss of muscle tone contributing to him looking a few years younger, as well as that more "childish" way — ... It is as if the "you of before" were seventy years old and that of now had... six? No, maybe eight... Damn it, I'm not good with these things.

— This is bad? — The little one raised his eyebrows. He was visibly concerned, with teary eyes.

— In fact this is pretty cool! — Smiled — We didn't get along before. You didn't get along with anyone other than Dick or Alfred... You even argued with B from time to time, a real plague! — He ended up laughing a little, remembering the completely nonsensical discussions that Damian created, especially those that involved his height — And now you...

— ... Do I misbehave?

— No, you are a well-behaved, fearful child and... Ah, stop with that crying face! — Messed up the hair of the youngest, which did not have much effect: there was already a tear and another running down Damian's cheeks — You are cute. It makes you want to be close to you now... Damn it, Dami! Stop that crying face, I told you that you're cute and behaving! — As a last alternative, he stuck a spoonful of that strange porridge in his brother's mouth.

— But Jay... — the little one tried to contest.

— Without speaking with your mouth full, brat! — And, to make sure that they would not continue with that conversation, Jason barely gave his brother time to swallow the porridge to make him eat more.

When that porridge finally ended - a mashed cooked apple and cinnamon that looked more like porridge - Damian was already calm and Jason already had a new subject to talk to the little one:

— I bet Ace catches the ball faster than Titus.

— I didn't see him today...

— I'm going to look for him to do a competition... — Jason smiled as he finally stood up with the empty dessert bowl. Damian also smiled, eager to have more company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Jason like bread? When he was a child, he had a very difficult life on the streets and even broke the window of a bakery to be able to feed himself - until then it is canonical depending on his origin. However, in this modern marvel that we call the internet, people made tons of fanarts and even fanfics where Jayson's greatest love is bread. He also likes a lot of hamburgers (there are several scenes where he is eating one).
> 
> In fact, there was even a time when he said that the Bat-cow should be called Bat-steak, but he was kidding. It was in Batman Corporation 6 edition (where there is also a lovely scene of Damian winning a kitten).
> 
> A curiosity: by the news that I saw on the internet, baked apple helps with immunity. If it's true I don't know, if it's not tasty either...


	31. Extra

Selina and Bruce were sitting on the Wayne Manor entrance stairs. The two watched the _"children"_ playing while Alfred served them with lemonade.

— If someone said five years ago that now I would be sitting next to a billionaire, drinking a cold lemonade while I watch my stepsons playing in the garden... — She had to pause to smile, almost a silent laugh as she watched Dick and Jason tossing his younger brother to each other, laughing — ... I wouldn't believe it.

— If someone told me, five years ago, that I would still be alive... — Bruce smiled, putting an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders — I would start doubting right away

— It's not like you're at your best, Master Bruce — Alfred commented, sighing heavily afterwards. It took a lot of work to convince him to sleep for a few hours.

— About you being out of shape... — Selina looked at him a little more seriously — ... You don't intend to go out tonight, do you?

— We already talked about it...

— No, we didn't talk.

— Cat... — He hugged her a little more — I know they kept everything in order, but _**Gotham needs Batman.**_

— **And Damian needs his father!** — She looked at him. He expected some kind of convincing answer, even some delusion that would justify that desire to have two lives all the time, but he got only silence. This silence lasted only a few seconds, as Alfred thought it was a good time to meddle in that conversation:

— I hope you keep your promises, Master Bruce...

— Promises?

— I swore that if Damian got out of that coma, I would become a good father. I'm trying, but it's difficult, especially with him so... — Wayne lost his words while looking at his son. Damian had fun with his brothers, he laughed like never before... he trusted being played from one to another, he trusted his brothers — ... so...

— Oh, Bruce... You won't give up, will you? — Selina changed her features from irritation to concern — You are doing well, you just need to continue.

— He lost confidence in me, cat. He trusts Dick, Jason... not me. I don't want to make it worse, at least how Batman can protect him.

— If anything, Master Damian has also avoided talking to me. I don't think he's lost his confidence, he's just **hurt** — The butler sighed, felt partly guilty — Every child acts like that...

— I failed as a father again, if I fail as Batman too... — Bruce stared at the ground, didn't want to think of some insane villain doing anything to threaten Damian, didn't want to think of what he would be able to do if that happened.

— Bruce... — The cat made him look at her — Batman is also Damian's father — He smiled — You have a double life, but your son doesn't have anymore... — She looked away at the _**children**_ — ... spend more time with him, it’s the best you can do now.

**Fact.**

As there is no fight against facts, the three remained silent and were content to observe the _**children**_ playing. The evening only left that relaxed family moment with a film face: the twilight painting everything orange, the silhouette of the three going from side to side, laughing, with the dogs running and jumping...

Bruce just wanted to observe and absorb that kind of experience to the fullest: for perhaps the first time, he was feeling full joy that his children were happy. There were no Gotham problems, the Wayne Companies charges, the unresolved issues; there was only a good, warm and serene feeling that made his heart — which for the last few days had only been suffering — relax and enjoy the tranquility.

Selina was also taking advantage of that, daring to think that she was not just there as a cat, but as a member of that family.

— What is that in those bushes further north? — Pennywort asked, but he was far from looking worried. My eyesight was simply impaired by tiredness.

— It must be just a squirrel... — Selina said quietly, she didn't want to give too much importance.

— No, it's not a squirrel — Bruce said as he separated from his girlfriend — It's getting late! — warned his children to come in.

He waited until the whining and complaints about the end of the fun were over before going to see what was hiding in the garden — when everyone was already safe and sound inside the mansion.

He could be more inattentive than he used to be, which didn't change his natural detective essence. Such a detective who already had a suspicion in mind: Talia — who as a maternal instinct had a kind of obsession with her son and perfection. She had been gone since the day she saw Damian's "certain death" state — everyone suspected she was involved, that she hurt him again, but Bruce knew that not... despite all the defects, _**she takes on what she does**_.

Like a billionaire with nothing to do, Bruce took Titus and Ace's collars and let himself be guided by the scent of animals that seemed as curious as he was to know what was hidden in the bushes.

As they approached, the animals growled and looked more uncomfortable. The “squirrel” seemed to have realized that chase and tried to run away by stepping on a branch or another... it was a rude mistake: the dogs practically detached themselves and ran after the prey, barking, making a big deal for the owner to go after him.

— Who's there!? — He asked, already knowing it was not his suspicion. Whoever he was, he was inexperienced in espionage. The dogs continued to bark, impatient, they had probably cornered the “squirrel” — I'll just ask again: who's there!? — Bruce said in a more serious tone, getting into the tall bushes, he could already see the dogs.

When he finally reached them, he came across something completely unexpected: Jon, Jonathan Kent, was trapped between dogs and a tree; he held the edge of the red cloak trying to hide from the animals, as if he were going to be invisible at any moment — he had leaves and small branches stuck in his hair.

— ... Stop! — Bruce sent and his pets obeyed, moving away from the child — Jon, what are you doing here? And why were you trying to hide?

— I-I... — he whispered, without taking his eyes off Titus and Ace — I wanted to know how Dami is — Finally released the cover, staring at his feet — You disappeared from that place and my mother doesn't want to tell me anything, then...

— You came to find out for yourself — he added.

— Yep... — Jon looked at him with red cheeks in shame — Are you going to tell my father?

— I don't need to — He lifted his shoulders, crossing his arms before continuing: — Jon, I don't want you to leave my son... — He paused and tried to find the right words to use with a child — ... but you need to understand that you cannot appear in front of him flying, as you did the other time. Not even following him around, because it will end up scaring him again.

— I didn't mean it... — With tears in his eyes, the little boy looked at his feet again.

— I know not — Bruce sighed, clasped his temples and tried to think of some reasonable way to resolve it — ... What do you think of coming here another day, playing with him?

— I can go get my things in a minute! — Superboy smiled, looked refreshed — Finally we are going to finish the video game and I can bring my homework too for him to help me and...! — He started to shoot, counting on his fingers all the things he hoped so eager to be able to do when his friend got better, woke up.

— Jon... — Bruce called him in a more serious tone — It will be another day, when Damian is better. And you need to understand that he lost his memory, so maybe he doesn't want to do all the things that he did before...

— Yeah, I know... — the boy said dejectedly, then smiling again and saying: — But I saw him playing video games and I bet I'll be able to beat him and...!

To the terror of little Super, he was unable to recap the whole list of fun things he was going to do with Damian — who now would finally agree to do fun things before his duties. A harsh yet docile voice interrupted him, a voice he knew perfectly well:

— How long have you been spying on the Wayne, Jonathan Kent? — Superman asked. He slowly lowered the flight, stopping beside Bruce and facing his son.

— ... J-Just... I-I... — The little one looked at his shoes again, trying to think about how to get out of that situation. Any delinquent's nightmare would be to face Batman and Superman, but Jon was even more afraid: — Dad, don't tell Mom! Please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like we have a stalker, doesn't it?
> 
> I have nothing to put in these notes, so I will put the comment that my friend (practically the co-author of this fanfic) made: “Jon is already thinking that his mother will wait for him with a hammer in one hand and the PS5 in the other”.
> 
> I think she would do that, but I don’t believe Clark will deliver his son like that...


	32. Caffeine

— I'll put him to bed before I go... — Alfred insisted.

— Do you not trust me anymore? — Tim smiled at the butler, finishing drying the last dish used for dinner. — I think he is lying, Alfred, but I am willing to join that game too.

— If everything was as simple as a lie... — The eldest looked at Damian, who was sleeping at the table — ... It is not easy to take care of him all the time, especially when he starts with the questions.

— I already know the rules: nothing to talk about fighting crime, do not leave him alone for a long time, do not make him nervous... — the boy lifted his shoulders — He will be asleep and I will be on the computer, what could happen wrong?

Pennyworth sighed, raised his eyebrows and put his hands together. He was ready to start the long list of small actions that were suddenly catastrophic when Damian was involved - especially now, afraid of everything. Tim interrupted him before he even started:

— And you need to rest a little, Alfred... — He was worried.

— ... Let me know if anything happens... — finally, the butler surrendered — The medicine schedule is written on the boxes, just one pill. If he shows any kind of reaction...

— Alfred, I know how to take care of gremlins — Drake interrupted him again. He picked up his brother, or rather, he practically threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes — Let's be fine!

— ... I have my doubts — the butler murmured, watching them leave the kitchen.

Tim took his brother to the bedroom - he thought it was an exaggeration to put him in a new room -, threw him on the bed and thought he had done a great job - under normal circumstances, he would have left Damian sleeping in the kitchen instead of risking waking him up and being bitten, or worse. Now, he could dedicate himself to the study of simulations, which he wanted to do all day instead of sleeping.

Timmy's new night routine consisted of analyzing the results of each of the simulations, interpolating the values and trying to find the exact point at which the divergent lines start to behave strangely and reach each other. That unusual manifestation made no sense, unless something reflected them in another direction, an event in a single point that radiated through them all and...

— Mr. Pennyeorth!? — Damian called outside, in the corridor.

— ... Damian!? — the boy got up at the same time — You should be sleeping — he said when he was already opening the door.

— I woke up and there was no one with me...

— Because it is already late and Alfred is resting.

— ... And my father?

— He left with Selina. Dick had a date too and Jason went to work things out... — The boy answered even the questions that would still be asked — It's just you and me, gremlin.

— Hun... — He looked down, shy — And... Can I stay with you?

— For...?

— Just to not be alone?

— Why?

— Why don't I like to be alone?

— Wrong answer, gremlin. You _**don't want**_ to be alone... — Tim walked back to bed — You can stay, but you can't touch anything — he warned, taking the laptop and starting to analyze the results again.

Damian entered the room, but stood leaning against the door. He looked at everything a little curious, mainly because the “nerdy brother” was sloppy, mainly with his own clothes: they had several bundles and plays, as well as books and magazines.

— Are you going to stand there? — The eldest smiled and indicated the edge of the bed with his eyes.

The boy was going to answer something, but changed his mind and looked at the floor. He observed the path he needed to follow until he reached the bed, full of obstacles and with nowhere to lean. He took a deep breath, armed himself with courage and tried to walk - even though he still wore the splint on his leg.

Timothy watched the little brother take the first steps alone, fumbling on the third and going straight to the ground. He, unlike the others, did not run to see how the little one was... he let Damian get up with his own hands, decide which way he would try to go and do it all over again. **Alone**. Independent as it has always been.

From the door to the bed, there were only ten steps, and in that small path, Damian fell four times, which gives an average of a fall for every two and a half steps, that is... **pathetic**. That was how the older brother judged the child lying on the ground, huddled, who gave up getting up when he was already beside the goal.

— Dami, is everything okay? — he asked when he was close to his brother, taking out a piece of paper or bran that stuck in him — Just get up and take another step...

— Kay... — the little one whispered, leaning on his hands again. He tried, but he had no breath, he did not have the strength to rise from the ground; the leg was hurting. — ... _**I can't...**_ — said almost without a voice, shrinking again — Sorry…

— It's not your fault, you're just too weak — Tim comforted him, helping to get up — Did you get hurt? You fell flat on your third try...

— I'm fine — He smiled, really trying to look good, but his eyes were full of tears - tears that were not noticed by his brother.

After that, Timothy went back to his work routine: he analyzed the results, interpolated, analyzed again... Damian, he was just lying next to his brother staring at the ceiling in silence, he didn't want to disturb. So they stayed for over an hour, until the eldest finally said something:

— I'm going to get coffee... — he warned, already getting up from the bed.

— Take me with you! — Damian begged, sitting at almost the same time — _**I-I don't like being alone**_ , please...!

— Ok, ok... — Tim sighed — Er... You're without sleep, right?

— ... Yes — Damian looked down — Sorry?

— Okay, gremlin, I'm also sleepless — Smiled — Do you want to stay in the kitchen for a while? Eat something?

— Not hungry... — He lifted his shoulders, but right after that he looked at his brother with green eyes shining for a simple request: — Can I keep drawing?

— Yes... — Tim went to him, helping him to get up — But only until I finished my coffee...

And so the two relocated at the kitchen table: Timothy continued to analyze his numbers on the notebook and Damian drew some of the objects he had close by. They maintained absolute silence, since they did not want to disturb each other, and remained so until the eldest made a random comment:

— I need more coffee... — he said quietly, looking at the big mug that was now empty.

— ... Do you want me to do it? I saw Mr. Pennyworth doing it several times — the youngest got up carefully, leaning on the table. He wanted to be helpful.

Tim pondered his suspicions that it was all a setup. He wondered if he could really trust that proposal and if a mug of coffee might have some hidden second intention - like an exchange of favors. In the end, he just gave a fake smile and agreed:

— Just don't try too hard.

He entered that same game as Damian: the game of make-believe. As good as the little actor was, so many falls were overkill. He wanted to know how far that little joke would go, how long that fragile appearance could be maintained...

While watching the gremlin prepare the coffee, waiting for any slip-up to be able to have some "hard evidence" against all that staging, Drake continued working on the results of the simulations. He was able to do both at the same time and very well, but it was enough for his cell phone to ring to reduce his concentration to just the short conversation:

— B? Need help? I can go to... — The voice that previously had concern and anxiety, became more indifferent: — ... ah. He's fine, everything is fine. Yes... No, he was too tired to stay... — The boy sighed — I already said that the gremlin is fine... Absolute, B. Even... — And hung up.

— Was it my father? — Damian asked while placing the mug next to his brother — ... Did he ask about me?

— Yes.

— He... — The little one paused while he adjusted himself in the chair again — ... Didn't he want to talk to me?

— I said you were already asleep.

— ... Yeah, it's too late... — Damian hid his face behind the sketchbook, drawing again — Thanks, Tim.

The older murmured something low enough that he would not be understood. He brought the mug closer to his mouth, with the coffee still smoking, and tasted it.

It was great.

There is not much secret in preparing coffee in capsules, but I expected Damian to do something wrong on purpose, which he did not do, however.

The two returned to the same silence as before: Tim was too busy with his analysis and Damian was drawing. They stayed that way for a long time, until the coffee in the mug ran out again and forced Tim to mumble his wails with himself:

— Great, no coffee and now you still decide to lock... — I was angry, trying to press some keystrokes to solve the problem, but nothing that really worked.

— I make more! — Damian said excited to help his brother once again.

— Ok, ok ... Do what you want, just be quiet, gremlin — Tim murmured, surly. He wasn't doing it badly, he was just nervous and at least trying to save the work he had done that morning.

— I'm sorry — The little one whispered and took his brother's mug carefully, afraid to disturb him and make him even more irritated.

Like a bad joke from the universe, Timmy's cell phone started to ring. He didn't want to talk to anyone, but he thought that Jason's insistence on being served could be important:

— What happened, Jay? — he asked trying to control his irritation, but all it took was a few words from the other boy to make him even more angry — I don't care if you're coming or not, I didn't need to warn you! You never call to say something like that, what happened to you!? ...What!? Of course, he's fine, I can't believe he just called for that! — Drake squeezed his temple, trying to control himself again.

— Is it Jason? — Damian asked quietly, hoping he could talk to his older brother.

— Be quiet — Tim replied to the little one, turning his attention only to the phone — No, I didn't speak to you! ... I don't know if you've noticed, but he's not a baby! ... No, Jason, I'm not treating him badly! I know how to take care of the liar perfectly well!

— ... Liar? — The little one asked almost without a voice, with teary eyes.

Timothy didn't even look at him, he continued arguing with Jason on the phone while trying to get the notebook to work again. The boy could not believe that, after so many hours interpolating values - it was almost five in the morning - he would lose progress so easily...

— Ah, Jason...! Of course you believe him, he has become your protégé! — Sighed — It's great that you're coming, I have more to do than babysit! — Turn off.

That argument could have ended in such a different way if young Drake's bad mood had not participated... Jason just wanted to know about the little brother, **the helpless and innocent little brother**. It was even an offense how easy that gremlin managed to deceive everyone, in Tim's view.

The boy rested his forehead on the edge of the table and covered his head with his arms, trying to think of what he could do now besides waiting. He would wait until the computer returned to answer, he would wait for Jason to arrive to continue that discussion, he would wait for Damian to finish making the coffee to send him to his room - soon Bruce would arrive and it would be bad for the child in the house to still be asleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an article published on December 10, 2018, on the website Tua Saúde; Angela Lana explained that research has shown hyperactivation of brain areas related to stress and anxiety, less emotional control, in people deprived of sleep. In other words, "that person will be more unstable, exploding at any moment", according to Lorenzi's translation.  
> Do you know anyone who's been sleeping a little, besides Bruce?  
> Yeah, Timothy, you’re not doing this badly… it’s just stupid. What did it cost you to go to bed after dinner, instead of doing complicated math?  
> Note to note: Timmy's room appears messy in some frames, I think he lets the mess build up when he's working on something important.


	33. Shock

The ringing of the cell phone made Drake open his eyes again - he had dozed off. Dick was calling him, probably to ask about the gremlin too... he preferred not to answer.  
He lifted his head and looked at the computer, expected to see it working perfectly, but it was off. He stared at Damian, ready to demand explanations, but what he saw the brat doing was more than enough to make sure he was lying about everything:  
The espresso machine, Tim's most loved item in that kitchen, was destroyed. Damian seemed to have thrown water and coffee powder over it several times, so much so that the poor machine already had smoke coming out of some points because of short circuits. The boy, who had not yet noticed that his brother woke up, continued to admire his mischief, slowly dropping a little more water over everything with the mug... he seemed to delight in that small amount of chaos.  
— DEMON!!! — Timothy shouted, practically jumping from the chair — WHY DID YOU DO IT!? — he grabbed Damian by the pajamas — WHY!? — He shook him from side to side, only getting even more irritated when, instead of an answer, Damian just stared at nothing and finished dropping the water on the floor — Is that what you wanted!? Hell me and get away with it, like you do with everyone!? — Tim ground his teeth, wanted to choke his brother, but was content to throw him on the floor.  
— T-Tim...? — the little one whispered, looking like he had finally woken up from that trance.  
— Don't be crazy now! This time you can't pretend to be innocent! — was everything Drake said before leaving the kitchen.  
With heavy steps like those of an elephant, he went to the corridor and removed a large frame from the wall that hid the circuit breaker board - he would hate for that bad joke to turn into something more serious. Since he couldn't quite remember which one belonged to the kitchen, he started testing one by one.  
The crackles of the breakers practically echoed, since the mansion was in absolute silence. Timothy muttered under his breath at every wrong attempt - he could see the kitchen light on through the door. He continued, continued until he heard a loud curse coming from the second floor, practically an enraged howl... it was Jason.  
Tim put down the circuit breakers and walked to the stairs, he was ready to finish the little discussion started over the phone, but he burst out laughing when he spotted the family rebel hurriedly descending, with foam running down his hair and wearing only a plush pink robe.  
— THE FUCKING LIGHT IS OVER! — He stared at the youngest, he was angry.  
— N-No...! — Tim tried to explain, but he was still laughing - if it weren't for the situation, he would have already run to the kitchen to get his cell phone and record that moment. The laughter grew even more with a few stumbles from the older man - he was slipping from the soap.  
— WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!? — The eldest put his hands on his waist, he was already face to face with Timmy.  
— I just... the breakers, I... Damn! — He tried to catch his breath, he even had tears from laughing so much — Damian did... then I... — Before he could proceed with the explanation - or the laughter -, a loud cracking noise came from the kitchen — Damian! — He called with an irritated tone, expected any kind of bad thing coming from the lying gremlin.  
— Damian!? — Jason called for his brother, but unlike Tim, he was worried.  
The two boys ran into the kitchen when they received no answer. Once there, there was even more chaos than before: Damian seemed to have resolved to make the condition of the espresso machine worse, which now hung over the sink only by the electricity wire - it rocked gently from side to side, ready to plummet on the floor with minimal movement -; the glass jar where the coffee was kept had been thrown on the floor without mercy and mercy - now the pieces and coffee powder were scattered.  
Timothy was the first to come and go to his brother - he was not worried, he was behaving like a real animal:  
— WHY DID IT!? — He demanded answers, explanations, anything that was — DON'T YOU HAVE DAMNED ENOUGH FOR TODAY!?  
— I-I... — The little one could barely speak — I tried to unplug it, but I got a shock a-a... And... — The voice stopped coming out, but the tears continued.  
— YOU WANTED TO ASSEMBLE A TRAP TO KILL ME ELECTROCUTED! — Tim accused, he was completely beside himself.  
Jason watched it all from the door, trying to understand what had gone so wrong. If he knew, if he even suspected that it would happen, he would have stopped by the kitchen before taking a shower - which was not at all relaxing. He finally intervened when, moved by unreasonable anger and frustration, Timmy jumped on his younger brother in an attack.  
It all happened quickly, but it seemed to flow in the young Timothy’s perception of time:  
He jumped on Damian to strangle him, but Jason took the little one out of his hands and held him up to keep away from Tim, who, motivated by an unfounded thirst for justice, did not think before kicking the older one in the hope that that was enough to have his prey, the Demon Wayne, once again within reach.  
That unexpected kick in the ribs, along with the floor still wet and full of broken glass was the cause for Jason to fall, taking Damian with him, and hitting his back on the bench and - as proof that everything that is bad can still be left worse - also hit that damn short-circuit espresso machine that was hanging. He barely had time for a curse or anything like that: electricity started to run through his body, made his muscles compress and he lost control... a terrible hour to be covered with foam.  
Seeing the catastrophic consequences of his actions, Timmy ran over to the breakers and turned them all off. While listening to the cracking of the circuit breakers, the boy also heard more noises coming from the kitchen: the coffee machine probably went down, as did Jason and Damian...  
Then, when all that was left was to go back and take responsibility for what he had done, Tim walked as slowly as possible. He hadn't done it wrong, nor could he even understand how he lost control of himself that way. From the door, he could see the two brothers lying on the floor; he didn't want to go near them, so he just stood there, waiting for them to show any sign that they were okay - that they were still alive - anything other than Damian's systematic spasms.  
After almost two minutes, which seemed like hours on end, Jason finally muttered something:  
— ... Brat?  
— I know what it looks like, but it only took an electric discharge. Soon he'll be back to normal, Jason — Tim tried to be rational, but he didn't dare approach them — I bet the gramlin did it on purpose, it was his plan all the time: do it all and leave me to blame!  
— But... — Jason didn't even finish, it was enough to recover what had happened to be nervous again — Brat!? — He called for the little one, who was still squirming and shaking — No, no, no... Damn it, Dami... No...! — he murmured, settling next to his younger brother. As nervous as he was now - and in pain - he was trying to repeat Alfred's actions and support at least Damian's head — Go get help, Tim!  
— ... Jason, the B must be busy yet and...  
— HELP! — The older one despaired.  
— Jason, Damian is only doing all this so he can be a victim again! — insisted, but had to pick up the phone on the table when it started to ring, it was Dick again — What do you want? ... It's okay, I must have triggered the security system by accident and...  
— IT IS NOTHING OKAY! I NEED HELP, FUCKING HELP! — Jason shouted, not caring who was listening.  
— It's just Damian... No, he just got a shock, it's normal! Dick, it is absolutely common and...! Kitchen, why? ... No, you don't have to! Dick, we don't need... — Timmy stopped talking, after all, Richard had ended the call — Great, one more to be nervous and act the way this gremlin wants!  
— CALL THE FUCKING HELP, TIM!! ALFRED, BRUCE, ANYONE! — The eldest screamed in a mixture of irritation and nervousness — If I could let go of the brat and come to you ... — he growled between his teeth.  
— I'll call Alfred, you don't have to be so nervous! It's just a seizure!  
— Just a seizure!? You have no idea what...! — Before Jason could continue with the explanatory speech about the situation they were in, desperate knocking on the door made him remain silent. The knocking was quick, then there were attempts to open the door and, finally, the person gave up the traditional entrance and went to the tipper above the sink — ... Who the fuck is that...?  
— WHAT HAPPENED TO DAMI!? — Dick asked as soon as he had a chance, when Drake opened the tipper to see who it was — WHAT HAPPENED!?  
— HE IS HAVING A CRISIS! — Jason replied.  
— STOP SCREAMING! — Tim asked, sighing and trying to call the butler - the only sensible person in situations like that.  
— I need someone to open the door! — the eldest asked — If I try to open it I will activate the alarm system...  
— Alarm system? Did you activate the mansion's security mode!? ALFRED SAVE US FROM YOU, TIM! — Jason returned to despair. That defense mode closed the BatCaverna's entrances and, at the slightest sign of break-in, put the entire mansion on alert.  
— Alfred locks the doors when he leaves... — was all that the grumpy nerd answered.  
— At least open the window then!  
— Ok, ok... — Tim murmured, trying once again to call the butler — You don't go through the kitchen window, Dick...  
— OPEN THE FUCKING WINDOW, I NEED HELP HERE! — Jason let the nervousness take over again, he was already shaking almost as much as his younger brother — Call Alfred soon, I think Damian is choking!  
— Choking!? — Dick also despaired.  
— I'm trying to call, can you stay calm!? — Timothy insisted, finally opening one of the kitchen windows - much smaller than the large windows in the dining room.  
As if a blow of common sense hit his eldest son, Dick did not go through the window as soon as it was opened, he preferred to take mitigating measures if little Damian woke up: he started to take off his uniform. The thin body-fitting clothing was practically destroyed by the boy who, due to nervousness, could not find the zipper. At the end of a real odyssey to remove his black and blue leotard - something he knew how to do so easily in his normal life - the boy finally went through the window...  
— Fuck...! — he said almost without a voice, fidgeting as he could to try to have some kind of mobility, but not having his arms crossed first was a fatal mistake.  
— ... I can't believe you're under arrest... — Jason sighed, looking at Dick and then at Damian — Is there anything more going wrong!? — he looked at Tim, who was at the kitchen door again — TELL ALFRED TO BRING HEAVY WEAPON! WE'LL NEED!  
— Jason! — Dick scolded him.  
— The way things are going, we're going to die today in a zombie apocalypse! No, better: I'm unlucky enough to be one of the few survivors and starve to death! Alone!!! — Todd was already on the verge of collapse — Die alone for the second time!!!  
— I'm stuck in a window, without clothes, while Dami is having a crisis and you are like that!? — Richard was not that far from the limit either.  
— I'm stuck with you and I'm perfectly fine... — Drake sat down at the table again — Of course, it would have been better if the gremlin hadn't ruined my day!  
— It's your fault that he is like this! — Jason replied.  
— It's his fault!  
— You who attacked him!  
— Did you attack Dami!? — Dick fidgeted at the window again, he was clearly disappointed in Tim.  
— He who started it! — he defended himself.  
— He's foaming! — Jason said in a choked voice.  
Damian, who was the central reason for the whole situation, was still in a convulsive crisis. Although he was no longer squirming so much, it seemed worse: now, a kind of foam came out of his mouth... he looked suffocated.  
— Alfred is already coming, but he doesn't have much to do about the gremlin... — Timothy murmured, resting his head on the table — Turn him on his side, maybe he'll get better...  
— The way things are, they can only get better — Dick murmured, trying to detach himself from the window.  
— I thought exactly the same thing when the light went out in the middle of my bath and now my life is this shit: the brat is going to die right now that we start to get along...! — The family rebel even had tears running down his face while he whined about life. Even so, beyond the limit of what he could bear, he did his best to turn his little brother on his side so he wouldn't choke.  
— Jay... — Dick tried to give one of his optimistic smiles — Think about it: what could go wrong now besides all this?  
It was the only thing Richard said before the shotgun blast echoed outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: if you notice something is short-circuited, stop using the equipment or turn off the power supply. If someone is attached to the equipment in a short time and it is not possible to cut off the electricity supply, use something wooden to keep the person away.  
> I don't know about you, but I always wondered where the zippers on the superhero uniforms are, or if at least they wear underwear when they dress up... In my head, it's impossible for Dick to wear anything under that tight outfit.  
> This is it.  
> I don't have much to say here, other than making it clear that I laughed A LOT while writing this chapter - I apologize to those involved. He wouldn't be like that, you know? It would be something much more serious and somewhat morbid, but I'll save that for later...  
> A special thanks to my friend and practically co-author of the fanfic: many of these “what could not get worse, stayed” was thanks to her. A little more and we can already write scripts for Indian action films, drama that will not be missing!  
> Note to note: In DCeased, Jason stays on Earth, struggling to survive among several zombies. It was the poor guy who buried Dick, Tim and Bruce in the Batcave... poor thing.


	34. Extra

Richard Grayson gave a silent bawl, his face as pale as paper.

— ... Dick? — Tim asked in a worried tone, soon after calming down: Alfred was opening the kitchen door, a sensible person!

— I'm very sorry, Master Dick, but I thought I was a kind of invader...! — the butler justified himself, ignoring the disaster that place was in and going directly to the window where the older boy was stuck, trying to help him loosen up.

— Invader...? Clothes off!? — the boy asked in pieces.

— Alfred! Alfred, the brat! — Jason tried to call his attention to Damian.

— One moment, Master Jason — Asked — I can only help one of you at a time!

— I help Dick let go, you can go help the liar... — Tim lifted his shoulders, finally getting up again.

— Stop calling him a liar! — the rebel brother demanded.

— **He is a liar!** You are the ones who prefer to believe this crazy story than accept that he is just a liar, that sooner or later he will go the same way as his mother! — Timothy was already more than tired with the little brother's antics.

Everyone was silent, even Alfred; but a serious voice asked:

— Do you have evidence that he is lying?

— Bruce... — Tim whispered, feeling a shiver in his back.

— **I want proof that my son is lying!** Evidence that this hell is just a bad joke! I want proof, Tim! — The bat hit a punch against the wall to vent some of the anger it felt. He wasn't in that state from what Timmy said, it was just stress finding ways to get out.

— You need to calm down... — Selina asked, standing between him and the children.

Timmy didn't even have the courage to look at his father. Dick was also silent, he felt ashamed for acting without thinking. Jason, who of the three boys was the only one unaware of the whole problem, the only one who gave Damian full attention only and exclusively, began to panic:

— A-Alfred, he stopped moving! — said to the butler, feeling around the little boy's neck for vital signs or anything like that — He stopped moving! — he said again, desperately, clinging to Damian without caring about Alfred trying to get the child out of his hands.

— Master Jason... Release him— the old man asked, tired.

— No!

— Jason, release — the father who asked this time.

— Already said no!

— Jason... — Batman sighed, clearly tired, as he went to him — Damian is fine, he is just too weak to wake up now — He tried to explain in a simple way, moving his hands away from the wayward son so that he could catch the child.

— He was just like that because of the shock... — Tim murmured.

Bruce, or rather, Batman forced himself to be silent. He wanted explanations about everything that happened in his absence, but there was a priority: whether Damian was okay. He also cared about the other kids, but they weren't in such a... _**decadent state.**_

He took his son to the Batcave, in the laboratory there. He did all the procedures he deemed necessary until he was sure that his son was well, that it was _**just another crisis.**_ Only then, when he was about to start his overtime work, did he realize that everyone else was there too:

Tim threw himself into one of the conference table seats, waiting for a good time to speak to the bat; Alfred was taking care of Dick's recent wound - a grazing shot -, clearly annoyed... the boy, who didn't care about the completely expository pose in which he was, tried to discuss the matter with the butler to make him more relaxed; Selina and Jason were arguing to see who would take Damian to his room.

— It is better that Selina stays with him — Batman, who was now without his hood, told his wayward son.

— It's because!? — the boy was already angry.

— Look at your feet — The two, bat and cat, spoke at the same time.

Jason found that request strange and decided to obey, for a change, surprising himself with some broken glass still stuck in the sole of his foot... he was hurt. He distributed footprints of blood where he walked without even noticing, without even feeling.

— Selina will take care of him while we take care of it... — Bruce used a more concerned tone, something that surprised his son so much that he didn't even resist when he was guided to one of the chairs, next to where Dick was being sewn — How that happened? — he asked, looking for tweezers or something.

— It's a long story... — Jason replied looking anywhere but Bruce — Ask Tim, it's his fault — He lifted his shoulders.

— Damian's fault! — the second youngest defended himself, finally approaching them — Bruce, I can explain and...

— The only thing I want to know... — Selina interrupted them, she was with Damian on her lap, but I wanted to clarify some points before: — ... it is the reason why you are wearing my robe, Jason.

— I'm sexy with him — He lifted his shoulders again, too tired to think of excuses.

Dick was the first one to burst out laughing, soon after being accompanied by Timothy and his contained laughter... even Alfred let out an air of laughter, although he managed to hide it. Selina was trying to look serious, but she was about to laugh... Bruce, the only one who remained indifferent, took advantage of the distractions to start removing the broken glass.

— Actually... — the boy resumed, when everyone was already silent again — I was in the shower when the lights went out, it was the first thing I caught — He ran his hand through his hard hair because of the dry foam — By does her bathrobe stay in your bathroom yet?

— Did you bathe in my bathroom? — Bruce looked at him with raised eyebrows, clearly surprised by that discovery.

— Your bathtub is huge... — Richard, justified both his brother and himself.

— Does anyone else use my bathroom when I'm out? — the patriarch asked.

— ... Your bed is soft — Selina smiled from the corner.

— True — Timothy murmured, right after pulling that conversation to another point: — Since when do you bathe, Jay?

— I always shower, I just don't change clothes — the boy turned his face, offended.

— It is better to change clothes... — Dick suggested — Remember that time you spent three days with a radioactive stain on your pants and...!

— The best thing is that you start to do both! — Selina intruded, looking at the two as if they were two stubborn children.

— But...! — The two said in unison, ready to use the most outrageous excuses possible for unusual hygiene habits, when the father interrupted them:

— You said that the lights went out when you were in the shower, Jason, what happened?

— Damian decided to break the espresso machine in the kitchen — Tim answered for his brother — I bet he put something in my coffee that made me sleep, when I woke up he had already done everything! Bruce, he's a monster! He's lying and...!

— When did he wake up? — Alfred asked, shortly after asking some more important questions: — Did you remember to give him the medicine? When did he start having a crisis?

— I forgot about the medication... — Drake sighed, squeezing his own temples — He woke up a little after he went to bed, he was quiet, but it was only Jason calling that he started!

— Of course, you called the brat a liar!

— He is a liar!

— Enough! — Bruce sent — I want explanations, very detailed explanations of everything that happened here. I don't want assumptions, I want facts.

Everyone was silent. The only one who knew everything that happened was Tim, but his view of Damian could influence him... the child, who was still unconscious in Selina's arms, probably wouldn't remember what happened before the crisis.

— B... — Dick called down. Alfred had already finished fixing it — ... How did you two get in? The mansion was on alert...

— We used an incredible and high-tech tool called a key — Selina smiled in a corner, having fun seeing the features of surprise stamped on her stepchildren... probably none of them remembered to take the keys when they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is the only BatFamily member who is allowed to carry firearms and use them in self-defense. Usually he prefers a shotgun.  
> BatCave, like much of the DC map, is constantly changing. Usually it gets bigger, with more floors and a different architecture. To simplify, let's combine that: the Batcave is huge, it fits a lot, but it has a more open design. As the cave is being used in the fanfic, I am making some points clearer.


	35. Jealous

Two days had passed.

More specifically, two days and nine hours.

Exactly: two days, nine hours and fourteen minutes since Jason stayed away from his younger brother for more than a few steps.

In terms of too much protection, all members of that family were going over the edge to take care of Damian - except for Tim. However, Jason had already exceeded any expectations.

The “rebellious son” became the older brother that anyone would want to have: he played with Damian, made him eat every meal, made him take his medication at the right time... he even risked making some drawings with the little one, a kind of friendly competition. Bruce was more than satisfied with that change, mainly because he had more free time to devote himself to his investigations; Dick, the previous holder of that prestigious position as a favorite brother, tried to hide his jealousy with increasingly frequent rounds...

Speaking of the firstborn, when he was not out wearing his uniform - tight to the body, brand new -, he locked himself in his room and engaged in a hobby that was even morbid: spending hours in long conversations with Barbara, Starfire, with whom wants you to be willing to “remember” Damian and suffer with him. _**Suffer**_ , because he had already accepted the death of the old brother. Now, this new Damian did not see Dick with the same eyes - nor could he, since talking about the real past was forbidden until further notice.

— I miss him so much running to give me a hug... — Dick said trying to look happy, but his voice was already choked — When I came back, you know? He came running and hugged me... — He sighed, feeling his eyes prick up — The kiddo won't do that anymore...

— He is strong, I'm sure he will wake up soon... — Starfire tried to sound hopeful, but that ex-boyfriend's depressive state was contagious.

— There was that time when we were waiting for Bruce and Selina, before the wedding. We sat there for so long, just waiting... you know, I think I saw an "end" for Robin in him, but not like that.

— Are you still unable to find out what happened? — She tried to pretend to be interested when in fact she just wanted to get away from the heavier subject, Robin's "death".

— They are more concerned with other things... — He stared at the ceiling. They were more concerned with the present than with the past.

— I am still in favor of alternative methods.

— No, B would not let Raven come near him...

— And why not? If nothing has worked...!

— It would only make it worse, you wouldn't understand! — Dick interrupted, covering his face with his arms — Anything just gets worse, like bad things we laugh about when it passes, but it never goes away... it just got worse, worse... worse...!

Kori, who was taking advantage of that moment to untangle the long strands of hair, put the brush aside and stared at his old boyfriend. One of the advantages of the technology is to provide video calls in real time, where the two people can come face to face despite the distance... one of the disadvantages is that comforting hugs are not possible. The Tamaran alien even opened his mouth, muttered something low enough not to be heard and then shut up - he had nothing to say.

When another of her former romantic interests appeared in the room, Jason Todd, almost putting the doors down, she was sure that the best to ignore them and untangle her hair again.

— Dick’s head, think fast! — It was everything Jason said before the older man was hit by something relatively heavy, right in the stomach, making him lose his breath completely — I will have to go over some things, take care of the brat there for me.

Richard slowly uncovered his face, only to feel even worse when he saw Damian walking away from him and trying to reach Todd, managing to grab him by the end of the Jacket just in time. The youngest had ignored Dick completely, because the only person he wanted to be with was Jason:

— ... I can go too? — Damian asked with a voice showing the anxiety to go along.

— We already talked, Dami... you stay with Dick today, okay? I'll be back tomorrow ... — the rebel smiled, ruffled his hair and made him loose his jacket.

— But Jason...! — He tried to hold it again, with even more tension in his voice this time.

— I already said no — Jason replied in a more serious tone, without even looking back as he left - he didn't have the courage to look into tears-filled green eyes.

And then, when there were only two D’s in the room, the older man finally had the courage to face him closely. He had the courage to see that _**child**_ who clearly preferred the other brother. To his surprise, Damian remained silent looking at the door, with a foolish hope that it was just a little joke from Jason.

— ... He won't be back, kid... — Dick murmured.

— He's gone? — Damian looked at him clearly worried — Forever?

— No, he just won't be back today. Maybe not tomorrow either, but it is because he is always getting into trouble... — He smiled.

— My father didn't send him away, did he?

— Not that I know — The older man lifted his shoulders, not even he could be sure about that — But if he left, Jason would insist on coming to irritate him...

— ... Are you sure? — The boy continued with an excessively worried tone.

— Hey, little D... — Dick pulled him close, starting to touch his hair as if that affection could calm him down more — Why all this worry? Did something happen? Did someone say something?

Damian just snuggled into his arms and hid his face. The lack of answers was already starting to be distressing, mainly because little Wayne tended to believe anything they talked to him about - and Todd had a sick sense of humor.

— Did Jason say anything? — Richard asked a little lower, as if asking for a secret. When he received a negative nod, he continued: — Tim? Did he pick on you again? — Again received a negative wave — ... Bruce said something that made you sad?

— No... — Damian finally looked at him — Dick, am I disturbing you?

— Of course not, kiddo — He smiled, making little one smile too — Why did you think that?

— You are always busy... — He faced another point, giving a silly smile before completing: — Or on a date... do you have a girlfriend?

— Of course not, Dami! — Richard even let a laugh escape. He ruffled his brother's hair and asked one more question: — Jason has been making things up about me, is he?

The little one moved his head from side to side, denying. Soon after, he hid his face in the hug again and was silent... Dick had said something wrong.

— Hey, kiddo... what is it?

— ... Nothing.

— Damian, answer me: what is it? — He held the face of the youngest, forcing him to look at him — If it were nothing, you would not be with that crying face...

— Do you still like me?

Grayson stared at the youngest for a few seconds, analyzing everything that could have triggered that kind of question. The preference for Jason was something clear, so Dick decided to get away a little more and let the two enjoy that moment of brothers... maybe he got too far, since in Damian's mind he “never had time” to play in garden or to put it to sleep.

— _**... Still?**_ I would never stop liking you, lil’D — Smiled — I’m just solving some things and...

— My father says that too — interrupted him, facing another point — Everyone says that.

— We are just busy...

— Everyone says they are busy — He hid his face again, he was tired of that subject.

— It is because we are, Dami... — Dick sighed, starting to feel guilty for having left that “version” of his brother, no matter how much it hurt to see him that way. The two were silent, until Damian finally said something else:

— ... Is my mother busy too?

— Usually she and Bruce are together and...

— Not that mother... — the youngest interrupted him again — My real mother. Is she busy too?

— Damian...

— My friends, are they busy?

— Dami...

— I have friends?

— Kiddo, I know that you must be surprised no one comes to see you, but you need to understand that you still can't be receiving visitors and...

— _**... Nobody liked me before, they are stopping liking again...**_ — The little boy's voice was already crying — ... My father just keeps busy, my mother Selina... You... Now the Jason... — He looked at Dick, he was trying hard not to start crying — ... And I don't even know what I did wrong!

— You did nothing wrong, Damian, calm down... please, calm down — the elder asked, practically begged, while hugging him more. I didn't even want to imagine how that conversation would end if Damian continued to be stressed about that subject.

— So... — he whispered, taking a few seconds to continue — ... So am I behaving?

— Of course yes — He replied, which made the little one look at him with green eyes shining - he was magically calm. Now, wanting to escape from depressive matters, Dick smiled in a corner and held his brother with a little more strength — But you need a punishment for jumping on me...

— But, but... But it was Jason who threw me — Damian tried to break free.

— I'm sorry, little D, but I want my revenge... — The eldest tried to control himself not to start laughing at the younger boy's panic expression — ... tickling!

That word followed by the laughs of the two D’s was all Stardire heard before finally having the courage to end that video call. She needed some time to process everything - and she also needed to finish untangling her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excellent princess of Tamaran, Koryand’r, Kori for the most intimate and Starfire for all who have seen the animations of the Teen Titans finally showed up!  
> This beautiful alien loaded with sympathy manages to win the heart of anyone, especially birds. She almost married Dick Grayson, but when Trigon decided to show up without even being invited, the ceremony was over - which doesn't stop them from having a colorful friendship, it seems. As for Jayson, they had a kind of relationship with a large dose of "does she still like Dick?" (I don't know about that, it happened in the New 52 Outlaws).  
> For me, if someone should stay with Kori until death do them part, this someone is Richard Grayson; not that they don't match other characters either. Incidentally, in Kingdom of Tomorrow, they get married and have a daughter named Mar’i Grayson, Nightstar.  
> Note of note - for everyone who likes the Titans series, I will leave a somewhat controversial opinion registered here: I did not watch the series, I do not know when I will watch it, but since the first images leaked I simply hated that unreasonable mistake they made with the beautiful Starfire that we all know... THAT WIG IS HORRIBLE! It seems that they wanted a full hair like that of the 80s, but it was horrible! There, I said it!  
> Note of note of note - this is an opinion, deal with it. If you want, you can leave yours too :D


	36. Toy

— Alfred, why isn't my son in bed yet? — Bruce asked loud, making it clear that he was disappointed - and moody. He was hurrying down the stairs, adjusting the last buttons of his overcoat that covered the already dressed part of his uniform.

— He is still refusing to eat, Master Bruce — the butler replied with some regret.

Damian, however obedient he was, refused to eat anything since the morning of that day. Notably, this type of “bad behavior” started when Selina said goodbye to the little boy with some excuse about modeling outside the city. As much as the "mother" had the reasons to go to Metropolis, the child understood that as another person moving away from him - it had been two days since Jason left.

— ... Dick said he would make him eat — Wayne stopped at the penultimate step, clutched his temples and waited until the vision was focused again.

— Master Dick failed.

— I haven't done it **yet,** Alfred — The boy gave an encouraging smile as he approached them — But I bet if B will be able to convince him!

— ... Who do you think tried first? — The butler sighed — He should be hungry, if he hasn't eaten anything all day...

— He ate strawberries while he was with me... — the father replied disinterestedly, running his hands over the fabric to remove the crumples and walking slowly towards the dining room.

— We are not in the age of strawberries, Master Bruce — Alfred raised an eyebrow, accusingly, waiting for a valid justification for that not being just a kind of excuse for the child's lack of appetite.

— Strawberry candies.

— Ah...! — the elderly man pretended to be surprised, walking right behind Wayne — Really, strawberries candies is very nutritious. Maybe I should have given him a pizza for dinner instead of steamed vegetables.

— Maybe he doesn't like vegetables anymore — Dick said as if unraveling a mystery, optimistically, going after them.

Within seconds the three were already at the door; they could see Damian sitting at the table, crestfallen, turning the food on his plate without any interest. Bruce squeezed his temple once more, uncomfortable with the blurred vision; Richard remained optimistic, with a docile look directed at his younger brother; Alfred, the most experienced with children, let the concern show:

— I believe that the distance from the **mother** left him without hunger and now that the **father** is leaving the house... — the butler murmured as if he wants nothing — I bet this boy will refuse even to go to bed... — Sighed.

— I can't stay at home, **not today!** — Bruce stared at the floor, rethinking whether he really should leave the house dressed as Batman. As much as he **wanted** to spend more time with his son, he **needed** to create a safe environment first.

Just thinking about the turmoil of recent events, the night watchman felt a pain in his chest. First Selina hurries off after a call from Lois - she refused to give more information, even refused to say how serious it was. Afterwards, he learns that the Joker ran away again... just thinking about that noxious madman being able to do something against Damian, Bruce's pressure started to peak.

— Why can't you stay with me? — Damian asked standing up, facing the adults with a mixture of sadness and sleep. Unlike his father, he had no idea what was going on outside the walls of that mansion. This lack of information from abroad made him anguished without even understanding why, since the only thing he knew was that everyone left and took a long time to return.

— ... Son... — He tried to find the most appropriate answer, but the damn headache with the blurred vision prevented him from being as focused as usual.

— Because he will meet Selina and the two will return together! — Grayson answered for his father, trying to appear as confident as possible. He only noticed the bullshit he did when the youngest of the house looked at something with teary eyes, murmuring under his breath:

— ... Dad didn't say him was going far too.

— No, Dami... — Dick gave a nervous smile and continued: — They are going back together from the airport, right, B?

— ... Yes.

Bruce finally looked at his son, only to feel even worse: Damian's eyes, those green eyes that were so beautiful shining, betrayed the child's lack of confidence in his father. It was no wonder, since they had barely seen each other since they returned from the hospital. Bruce was always "too busy" to pay attention to his son, save on the rare occasions when he waited until he fell asleep to leave the house or when the little one sat next to him, in the office, drawing - both in silence.

— ... You don't have to lie... — the little one murmured despondently and went to Alfred, hugging the butler and hiding his face — I'm still not hungry. Can I go to my room, Mr. Pennyworth?

— Eat at least the broccoli, Master Damian — The butler asked, returning the hug. As much as he was being considerate of the youngest, he kept a heavy eye on Bruce and Richard.

— Take him to the room, Alfred. If he doesn't want to eat, it is better not to force... — Bruce murmured defeated. The truth is that any kind of scolding could make the situation worse between the two.

— The medicines are too strong to take on an empty stomach — Dick explained in a whisper, as if trying to hide from his younger brother the complete lack of technical knowledge from his father.

The night watchman let out a heavy sigh, clutching his temples and trying to think of what he could do. He wanted to call his girlfriend and beg her to come back, or even go look for Jason and bring him back - even if it was by force.

To make the mood even worse, Tim joined them. Damian, of the few times he stayed in the same environment as him, did everything to stay away or ignore his younger brother - the effect of what happened when Timmy took care of him alone.

— We better go before...! — Before Tim finished what he was going to say, he noticed the little one still hugging Alfred and completely changed the course of that conversation, even changed the tone: — ... Hi gremlin.

Silence.

Everyone was silent.

Tim crossed his arms, waiting for any response. Dick and Bruce looked at each other, knowing it would make the situation even worse - mainly because Timothy made it clear that he would accompany his father.

Alfred, who was serving as a shield for Damian, simply tried to appease things:

— Won't you say “good night” to your brother, Master Damian?

— ... Night — the little one whispered, hiding his face even more.

To everyone's surprise, Timothy smiled and approached the youngest - positive effect from the hours of sleep he had and the reduction in the amount of caffeine consumed. With a friendly and even playful tone, he told the youngest to listen:

— Too bad the gremlin doesn't want to talk to me, I was going to give him a toy...

— What kind of toy? — Bruce asked stoically, suspecting that "truce" moment.

— A prototype that did not work... — He lifted his shoulders, as if that were nothing too much — It was supposed to be a spy drone, but it is just a remote controlled bird — He smiled, waiting patiently until Damian stared at him. As for the older ones, they just made their disapproval clear:

— I don't think it's a good idea.

— I must agree with Master Bruce.

— I think it's a great idea! — Dick put his hands on the younger brother's shoulders, separating him from the butler and leading him back to the table — If you eat everything, Tim gives you the toy, right, Timmy?

— If Bruce agrees... — the nerd took the responsibility off his own shoulders.

— I'm not hungry and I don't want any toys — Damian said seriously, surprising everyone by appearing to have "come to himself" from one moment to the next — I'm thirteen years old, I don't want toys.

— You know, gremlin... — Timothy, far from looking offended, just smirked and continued: — But it's not just any toy... In fact, it's even good that you don't want to: a brat like you didn't would know how to use!

— Yes, I would know! — the little one had red cheeks.

— I doubt it... — he hissed slowly, teasing his brother.

— You two are enough! — Bruce interfered, exhausted and with his mood even more impaired — Tim, take that toy! And Damian, you better eat everything on the plate before your brother comes back! — Said seriously, with no gaps for oppositions.

Drake, who was staring at his father in shock, took a few seconds to turn his back on everyone and fetch the prototype from the Batcave. He wanted to run and come back as fast as he could to get rid of that frown, but his legs just accepted walking.

Damian stared at the plate with the vegetables. He felt his eyes burning, but he didn't want to cry... not now. **He was disappointing his father again** \- because he knew it had happened before, however much he could not remember. He started stuffing the vegetables in his mouth as fast as he could, barely chewing before swallowing. When he was finished, feeling suffocated by both food and the urge to cry, the little boy stared at his older brother in a silent request to leave.

— ... Come on, kiddo... it's past time for you to sleep — Richard smiled, trying to pretend that nothing had happened and that everything would be fine. He took his brother in his arms, since just being a support for him to walk would take too long.

Alfred watched his children, feeling completely helpless there. Bruce, the great wrong, threw himself into one of the chairs and rested his forehead on the table - he felt his head pounding as his heart beat, racing and racing.

Timothy Drake, when he finally came back carrying the prototype in his arms, looked at his father, still scared, and then left. He didn't want to ask where the younger brother might be because the answer was too obvious: in the bedroom, crying, probably with Dick.

And so they really were: Dick sitting on the bed with Damian on his lap, crying, muttering words that made no sense and could hardly be heard. Timmy left the toy on the floor beside them, whispering an empty promise before leaving:

— Tomorrow we play in the garden.

The youngest didn't even look at him. He continued to feel terrible, mainly because he did not blame his father for that outburst of irritation, he blamed himself for not yet having achieved a desirable behavior, a behavior that would attract people to him instead of just alienating him.

— You are very brave, Dami... — Dick whispered some time later, when the little one had only a few tears stubbornly running down his face — If it were me, I would have hidden under the table!

— ... Has he ever fought with you? — he whispered, still not looking directly at his brother.

— A lot of times! — the eldest replied getting to laugh — You know, it's that kind of thing that makes you sad at the time, but then you see that they were both idiots.

— Master Bruce has a real talent for acting like an idiot — Alfred murmured entering the room, carrying a glass of water and some pills in his hand.

— ... Medicines?

— It is already late, kiddo — the brother answered by the butler, finally letting the little one go and leaving him alone in bed — You better sleep now.

— Master Dick is right — Alfred smiled, approaching the little one and waiting until he took the medicines.

— ... And... Can someone stay with me until I sleep? — he asked and wiped his hands over his face, wiping the tear marks — ... please?

— You didn’t even need to ask such a thing, Dami — Dick said taking a book from the shelf and then throwing himself on the bed — With storytime and everything! — He smiled, extending the book for the youngest to read - it was Damian who read those “boring subjects” until he fell asleep.

— The Art of War? Is it about a painter who went to war or something? — the youngest asked right after looking at the cover, leafing carefully until he reached the first chapter.

— Something like that... — Alfred murmured a little unhappy with the choice of the book, leaving soon after and asking: — Don't sleep too late!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that image of Batman slapping Robin Dick in the face? So, it didn't really happen, it happened in an alternative DC story (Worlds Finest Comics n.153).  
> I didn't read this story or I just don't remember it. Anyway, I'll leave a short resume here that I got on the ScreenRant website:  
> Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, is still alive in this story. He was working on a cure for green kryptonite (we already see the connection with the kryptonians here), a cure that interested Superboy in the event of an attack by Lex Luthor. Thomas warns that he hasn't done enough tests with that healing serum yet, so he couldn't deliver it.  
> On the same night, Bruce finds his father dead in the laboratory, notices that the serum has been stolen and can see part of the blue and red clothing when the culprit flies out the window. More than enough evidence that Superboy was to blame, thus motivating the creation of the Batman we know and love: the avenging orphan.  
> The years go by, Bruce trained to take on the bat cloak and had already adopted Dick - admitting him as Robin too. However, when Batman finally plans the trip to Metropolis to finally defeat his enemy, Robin tries to convince him that Superman (the adult Superboy) would never do anything like that.  
> The two laughed a lot and Dick was slapped.  
> Okay, they didn't laugh, Batman just lost control and slapped Robin in the face. Then he repented and even used a hypnosis machine to clear the boy's memory, keeping the secret of his double life and breaking the partnership against crime.  
> The end of this story is so strange that I won't even put it here.


	37. Extra

Dick hurried through the corridors of the Titan Tower. He thanked him in silence for not seeing anyone on the way - if it was due to the time. When he finally arrived at the room of the old girlfriend, whose door was ajar, he allowed himself to take a deep breath and seek some calm before asking:

— What happened?

Starfire, who was standing looking out the window, did not move a muscle to answer:

— You who need to answer that.

— Starfire, I shouldn't even have come here, Batman needs help and we were in the middle of one...!

— Batman or Damian? — she interrupted him. Tom was serious and heavy, denouncing the irritation contained — Were you fighting crime or playing with your brother, Dick!?

— ... Starfire... — He closed the door, he wanted to guarantee that that conversation would not leave — Kori, I know what you must be thinking, but...

— How long!?

— ... Two weeks, practically — He stared at the floor.

The alien let out a heavy sigh, ran her hands through her hair and then placed them against the window glass. She murmured a few things in her native language, which seemed to be whining.

— You made me accept that Damian would never wake up...!

— Kori...! — Dick tried to interrupt her, but that was enough for her to finally face him - she was about to hit him with her eye powers.

— Made me feel guilty!

— I didn't mean it... I was sad, devastated!

— And I don't!? — The intensity of the green of her eyes started to decrease, indicating both that she would not attack him anymore and the sadness overcoming other feelings — Since that day I have not accepted to lead anything else, I have rethought my place here... I do not I was a worthy companion, none of us was! You made me believe that he would die because I didn't trust him!

— Nobody trusted him, not even me... — he whispered.

— But I trusted you! — She approached a few steps — I endured her sadness for months! I took it all because I felt guilty! And you... you... — She tried to look for a word, but nervousness stopped her — He woke up two weeks ago and you kept making me suffer, Dick!

The alien approached, attacked him - lucky for him that the people of Tamaran have their abilities triggered by feelings and that Starfire's sadness was greater than his anger. She hit him while she succeeded, while there was still some trace of the inexhaustible energy that, by contradiction, was at the end. When she was quiet again, she no longer wanted to look him in the eye, she preferred to walk and watch the view through the window again, in silence.

— I did not lie: **Damian is not yet awake...** — his tone was harsh, it was necessary for Kori to face him again — What woke up was a child who does not remember anything, who cries for everything and got to the point to like Jason more than me... — despite some grace at the end, he let the sadness show in his voice — The Damian we knew didn't wake up and I don't even know if he will ever wake up... — He sighed and he continued, shaking and tearful: — ... and even if he wakes up, he won't be able to be Robin again...

— ... Why? — she whispered.

— It happened right after he woke up, when we started to celebrate... — Dick if he allowed himself to sit on the bedroom sofa, it would be a long story — It was when we noticed that he had lost his memory.

— Raven can solve this, I do not understand the reluctance to receive help and... — Before she managed to finish, Richard interrupted her with tears already getting out of control:

— He was nervous and had the first seizure... he has horrible epileptic seizures! There were several, several!

— ... I don't understand... — Kori finally disarmed the resistance and, despite being very hurt, sat down next to him. She wanted more information about her former crime-fighting companion: — Is epilepsy a disease, a mental illness? Something Raven can't fix?

— ... Let's say yes...

And so he started to unravel everything that happened to Damian since the child woke up. He explained about that illness, about the crises... about how everyone had already accepted that ending for Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titan Tower, that huge T-shaped building that is one of the most eye-catching superhero havens I have ever seen, was originally designed by the excellent Silas Stone and then remodeled by his son, Victor Stone - who would be the own my heart, if I had one.  
> I am not going to go into details about this tower because, like much of the map that DC has, it is constantly being altered, destroyed and reconstructed. We are going to make a consensus that some occupants live entirely inside this tower, as is the case of Starfire.  
> Now let's talk about one of Raven's greatest powers and one that is usually very poorly exploited: healing. Yes, Raven has healing power, in addition to all the other various powers that make her one of the strongest heroines and, unfortunately, underused (my opinion. Honestly, they focus too much on teenage doubts and darkness, forget that she is part of the light too).  
> I'm going to give a very poor explanation of her healing power, because I barely remember seeing her using it: she can heal the person in seconds by taking the patient's “pain” for herself, in a much more abstract sense of the word than it could be. I believe they tried to link this to the fact that she is an empath - which, incidentally, can make people feel things like "calm" and even "falling in love with her" (people, why haven't they created a fanfiction where she unintentionally falls in love with herself? WHY!? I will have to do this alone!?).


	38. Extra

— I'll be back in two hours... at most. — Dick said quietly, finishing putting the mask over his eyes.

— A meeting of just two hours is not like him, Master Dick — the butler commented disinterestedly, he was more concerned with taking the book from the hands of a sleeping child — Anyway, come back soon — he asked, giving up the book.

— Do you think he wakes up before dawn?

— His nighttime habits remain as unpredictable as ever, even with tranquilizers.

Richard, now in full Nightwing suit, nodded in agreement. The two left Damian's room in silence, walked together to the Batcave without another word until the farewell:

— If you need help, just let me know.

— If Master Bruce returns first and finds out that he left with his jet, I am not going to need help... — Alfred warned.

The young hero just gave one of his smiles and then left with the jet. Whatever the reason for that departure, it should be an important matter.

Mr. Pennyworth, since he had nothing important or even interesting to do, devoted his free time to some adjustments to the new prototype “spy bird”, stopping a few times to check if Damian was still sleeping. The hobby was only interrupted, in fact, when Timothy Drake's voice roared with some despair from the central computer:

— Alfred, we have a problem!

— We really have: the artificial fluff of the bird is what is causing the internal components to overheat... — replied the butler, without taking his eyes off the new prototype.

— Seriously: Bruce is in danger!

The elderly man ran to the computer, because only something truly dangerous could allow an oversight like speaking Batman's real name. Once there, he could see young Tim trying to fasten himself inside the Batmobile with his seat belt - it looked more like he was trying to tie himself up.

— What happened!?

— Joker! — he shouted in a mixture of irritation and fear, shortly afterwards with a contained laugh — he is using the gas, but it is different...! — He laughed, long laughs that made him lose his breath — It is different, Alfred... cct slowly, imperceptibly... And Bruce is there with him... — He laughed again, a macabre laugh in which his lips curved in a threatening smile as he continued to laugh, though he was barely breathless.

Alfred was silent and started to press a few keys. Soon afterwards, it was possible to hear the following warnings coming from the car's system: “Manual control privileges canceled”; “Ignition started”; "Permission to initialize weapons and listen granted". And so, with the Batmobile under his control, Alfred managed to drive him across the abandoned terrain of a slaughterhouse - a place full of henchmen of the clown, some still standing like the living dead and others already lying on the ground, simply dead.

He put down the door of one of the refrigerators, where it was pointed out as Batman's location. Indeed, there was the bat: inert, hanging from the back on hooks, face to face with a large scren that showed the Catwoman; beside him was the Joker, laughing and clapping.

— Oh, no farewell tears? — The clown pretended sadness, soon after laughing and holding one of the guard's hands and standing up in a rough attempt to wave — Come on, Selina, say goodbye too! Hey, Selina! Hello! — He let go of Batman's hand, scratching the back of his neck and chin — Hey, did I put the wrong wires? — He was irritated and stamped one of his feet — Great, my whole speech was down the drain! Not that you're not a good listener, Batsy, but I wanted tears instead of that stupid smile...

Alfred took advantage of that distraction of the Joker to bring the Batmobile closer. When he already had the clown in his sights, in a position that guaranteed to hit only him, the bastard walked away and started zigzagging around the room. He laughed, ran, jumped and laughed even more - that hideous laugh resounded in every corner of the refrigerator.

He was joking, because he knew that the car's mobility inside that place was impaired - the tracks were still there, abandoned and covered with dust and blood stains. At one point in that cat and mouse game, when the armored vehicle had already managed to knock down part of the obstacles, Joker found himself using a sadistic and fun alternative to end that night:

The clown ran and, with enviable agility, jumped on Batman and climbed him. He did not insist on being delicate, on the contrary, he did everything so that the tugs in search of stability would contribute to further tear the bat's back. The maniac was quieted only when he was safe enough, hugging the enemy with his legs and one arm, while using the other to wave at the Batmobile.

— Cars still don't fly, lucky me! — He laughed — You know, Batman... I like you. Not really! I like you and all that stuff that makes you hit me, arrest me, I run away and kill people... and that's why I DON'T LIKE her... — He pointed at the screen, Selina was still as focused as before — Don't look at me like that, you know it will ruin all this special thing that we have...

Batman remained inert, much to Alfred's despair. The most the butler could do in that situation was to start slowly approaching their Batmobile - if it couldn't reach the Joker, at least it would serve as a support for the bat.

— **It's not you, it's her...!** — Joker smiled and took something from the suit pocket, a detonator — You know what they say: **curiosity killed the cat!** — He laughed, a mocking and uncontrollable laugh that echoed all over the place. He pressed the detonator against one of Batman's cheeks, which was immobilized in a forced smile.

The screen, which previously showed Selina, was filled with bright orange light before it lost its signal.

It was over.

Joker, smiling from ear to ear with his performance in that little battle, decided that it was time for a triumphant exit: he let go of the bat and went down to the ground again - they were at a small height of just over a meter - and, as a courtesy, he decided to help Batman down as well, pulling him by the feet so that he fell on the floor after cutting the skin that held him in the hooks.

— You don't need to thank me, Batsy! — he said clapping his hands together, as if he had just done a hard job — These tears of yours are more than enough... — And after that, the clown turned around and left calmly, laughing - because he had the absolute certainty that he would not be followed by anyone, not after triggering the happy gas inside that abandoned building.

Tim Drake, Robin Red; he laughed and cried at the same time, a nervous cry, as he hugged himself and tried to contain his body shaking. The little air he managed to gather in his lungs only served to make him laugh even more, even though he was desolate - he never imagined that the reason for all this was the CatWoman.

One of the few things the boy saw before he completely lost hope was Batman trying to move his feet, which could have been a good thing, if his laughter – low and loud - had not started to resound all over the place. This made Tim go into despair, dropping his head on the locked steering wheel of the vehicle while his body shook with every laugh he gave himself.

Alfred, who watched everything from afar by the monitors, was eager to go and help them. However, before he could take any vehicle and simply leave, the computer alerted him to something:

— Reception of data allowed by privileges of the handle, starting download.

— Computer, show location! — the butler ordered.

— Location: east coast of Metropolis. Docks. Shed 21.

— Computer, location of Selina Kyle!

— Not found.

— Selian Kyle's last location!

— Location: east coast of Metropolis. Docks. Shed 21.

— How long ago!?

— ... 19 seconds ago, 20 seconds ago, 21 seconds ago...

The butler moved away from the computer, defeated before he even went to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows the Joker, but not everyone knows the notorious Happy Gas he uses. In fact, this compound is a mixture of hallucinogens and asphyxiants, one of the effects of which - besides rapid death - is laughter. The chemical compound of this mixture even appeared in the comics (Detective Comics, Impostors Among Us - where several infected people become Jokers, n. 867 if I'm not mistaken), the mixture takes: methamphetamine and ecstasy (as hallucinogenic drugs); nitrous oxide (laughter gas itself); cyanide and strychnine (as asphyxiating). It’s too expensive a mix, so here’s one of the reasons why the Joker is robbing…  
> I consulted the video called “Conheça a Fórmula Secreta do Gás do Riso” by Detona Química on YouTube - my days of love for chemistry are long gone.


	39. Extra

_**Gotham, Mountain Drive, 1007 - 16 hours and 15 minutes to the end:** _

— Why are you going to tell him you're going? After all, where are you going? — Bruce asked impatiently, chasing his girlfriend down the hall.

— Metropolis, I told you before! — Selina answered harshly, already in front of the door of Damian's room — And I better say goodbye to him and let him know that I'll be back in a few days than just disappear, as you all do!

The bat was silent, staring at some point - as if the blush did not reveal the shame he felt.

The cat, sneaky as always, infiltrated the son’s room in absolute silence. She spent a few seconds watching him play with his older brother before finally warning about his presence:

— No kiddo, you have to turn to the left... — Dick pointed to the screen — Quick, to the left!... the other left!

— I better give up, this game is too difficult... — Damian murmured passing the control to the eldest. The truth is, Richard was too excited to explain things correctly.

— The other left is called right, Dick — Selina smiled, approaching them and sitting next to the son — Damian, I'll tell you something, but I need you to be happier for me than sad, okay?

— ... I'll try — The child smiled, giving all the attention he had to her.

— I need to travel to an important job as a model... — She paused when she saw his smile completely fall apart — ... It will be quick, I promise to come back before you miss me.

— ... Do you really promise to come back, mom?

— Asking so, I promise anything! — The cat hugged him, practically pulling the child into her lap, and they stayed in a tight hug for a long time, a hug unlike any other that Selina had ever given... a hug that would leave part of her stuck there.

It was obvious that Damian would miss her, just as she would miss him.

.

_**Metropolis, Daily Planet, Lois Lane room - 12 hours and 43 minutes to the end:** _

— So you have an office... — Selina walked around the room, dropping her purse and coat on the table while snooping on the decoration.

— Let's say I am persuasive enough to have one — the journalist smiled and shrugged — But I didn’t call you here just to see my new room.

— Oh no? I was about to send some pictures to the bat... he'll love to know that Clark doesn't have a room yet!

— I also did not call to tease my husband! — Lois let a laugh escape, settling in the chair — Remember Dr. Garner? I know you remember! So: ... — She looked for something in the piles of papers on the table, picking up a folder — ... here it is!

— ... I hope all these papers are photos — Selina murmured, finally sitting down in front of her friend and willing to take the serious tone they needed — Did you discover anything about him?

— Except that he adopted the name of a deceased doctor years ago, that that place does not have the proper licenses to operate as a neurological clinic and that he buys lots of smuggled substances... nothing! Oh, I was forgetting: ... — the journalist fired and, as if that pile of information was not enough, she pulled one of the sheets out of the folder — ... here, do you recognize? No, you don't! Do you know why? Why aren't they just using Gotham docks for trafficking, they're starting to use Metropolis docks too! And do you know who one of the customers is? You know?

— ... Maybe the...! — it was interrupted before completing.

— Joker! — Lois smiled, a smile that is about to finish a puzzle — You said the doctor was talking to someone on his cell phone, it must have been the Joker!

Selina sighed heavily, analyzed that blurred map with a marked area and then mumbled a simple question, but one that put everything to waste:

— Why would they be together?

— ... Why do they hate Batman?

— Lois, I love your theories ... All of them! Maybe that Wonder Woman might be involved I didn't like it very much, despite being great — She held her friend's hands, trying to think of a practical way to end it — But Dr. Garner or whatever the name is this doctor doesn’t know about Batman. Even I imagined he had suspected, but he would have said something already if he knew. Besides, Joker would have already gone after Bruce...

— What about the traffic in chemical compounds? — The reporter wanted to hold on to a twinge of hope, whatever it was, to pretend that it was all over - that they already had someone to blame.

— I will take a look at this alone, the bat is too busy... — Selina commented while taking the folder.

— ... **We** will take a look at this for ourselves.

— Lois...!

— I can help!

— And the Super?

— Clark is busy at one of those space meetings.

— Your son?

— Sleeps at ten.

Lois Lane continued to look determined, convinced that she could help much more than with a simple fruitless investigation and her baseless theories.

— ... Right! — the cat finally agreed.

Lois Lane is really persuasive.

.

_**Metropolis, East Coast Docks - 27 minutes to end:** _

— I expected something more interesting than that...

— We are in Metropolis — CatWoman raised her shoulders.

— I'm glad I didn't come in heels... I would hate to revive Stilletto for anything!

— If I had said something over the phone, I could bring one of my clothes to you... — The cat lifted one leg and showed the heel — Orthopedic.

— Could you, please, not be so fabulous? — Lois let a laugh escape — Damn... I'm about to have my cover story and look at me: jeans, running shoes and my husband's worn sweatshirt...

— And a gauntlet... **of Batman.**

The two looked at each other and started laughing.

There was no danger of anyone hearing, after all, that new port area had virtually no security: deactivated cameras, no guards, no employees - except for a sleeping porter, who did not notice the two women infiltrating there.

In short, a great place to receive goods in quantity.

.

_**Metropolis, East Coast Docks, Shed 21 - 23 minutes to end:** _

— The door locking from the outside is not a good sign, is it? — the journalist asked while trying to open the entrance again.

— It's just a security mechanism... — CatWoman replied analyzing it around, had already turned on the lights. There were few boxes stacked in one corner of the shed and, at the other end, there was a half-open laptop — Apparently this is where orders are organized.

— I don’t know... it’s too empty... — Lois started walking around the practically empty place — ... From the information I got, the goods arrived today! It was supposed to be full!

— So he already sought — Selina replied calmly. She watched the boxes, the walls, the ceiling, especially where she stepped - and went on like that, walking slowly to that laptop computer — Where did you get the information?

— Gang member, he was caught at dawn... — he replied and tried to drag one of the boxes, surprising himself for being much lighter than he expected — I think these things are empty! — She got ready and, using the handle with the gauntlet of the HellBat costume, she hit a punch against the boards of the box to be able to open it — I don't believe it... — the voice was now of discontent and incredulity.

— What do you have there? — Selina asked without taking her eyes off the computer, where there was only a screen saver with the clock marked "00:21". She thought it was just the wrong time, only until she heard her friend's response:

— A crumpled paper written “HaHaHa”! — The reporter took it and showed it, still irritated — Do you believe that!?

— ... What the hell! — swore.

— Yeah! What kind of crazy puts this in a box!? — The rhetorical question, asked in a harsh tone, made it clear how unhappy she was with that joke - her story had gone down the drain.

— **It's a trap** , Lois! — Selina warned her, trying to get some access through the computer. The only thing she managed to do besides the “screen saver”, however, was to see the images from a security camera that showed Joker and Batman fighting in an area that she didn’t recognize — He wanted to let us find this, keep me away from Batman!

— Great! I can already imagine tomorrow's subject: “The Joker was in Metropolis and made the famous reporter of the Daily Planet one of his victims”! — Lois kept her tone irritated, taking the opportunity to discount the anger by breaking the other box. He ended up having a discreet laugh afterwards, a little more relaxed — More crumpled papers, this guy loves to scribble...

— These roles may not mean anything, we are dealing with an unpredictable person and... — She was silent. The fight between clown and bat ended badly, very badly.

— And crazy! — The friend completed for her, laughing once more before continuing: — ... Where is my husband when I need him?

The cat didn't answer anything, nor had she even paid attention. She was absorbed with the images that the screen showed: Batman falling to the ground, knocked out, with the Joker sticking hooks in his back and seeming to talk and laugh... When the joke was over, he appreciated what he had done and, as if he were no longer enough, triggered something that started pulling the hooks up.

— Batman needs me!

This time, all Lois Lane managed to do was laugh. He laughed out loud with laughter until he lost his breath, then he recovered and started laughing again, in a cycle. Selina, who already knew those symptoms very well, pulled her friend as far away from the boxes as possible.

— Use the gauntlet! — said, holding the journalist's arm aiming at the door — Use this thing right away! — Lois did nothing more than obey and release a strong burst of orange power at the door. She was still laughing. It was comical not to have thought of something so simple before — I'll leave you at the concierge and come back, I need to find a way to help him...

.

_**Metropolis, East Coast Docks, Concierge - 11 minutes to end:** _

Selina took her friend practically dragged to the cabin - lucky she was not exposed to so much gas, otherwise she would be in the same state as Lois. As soon as the two entered, the journalist tried to break free from her friend's arms and flee, failing miserably in the process. The justification came out in a hysterical cry:

— He is dead! — Lois said between laughs, despite the panic in his eyes: the sleeping porter they had seen before, the only employee they saw there, would not wake up.

— How did we not notice before!? Damn it! — Selina wanted to hit some slaps in the face because of inattention. However, he preferred to do something more useful and use the phone in the booth — No signal, great! What else is missing!?

— ... Acid? — the journalist asked with a broken voice, she was no longer able to speak.

CatWoman was silent.

That computer display did not indicate the release of laughing gas in the room... it was indicating the time when Batman would be killed. Joker was playing with her, a cruel joke, where she couldn't do anything for the bat but watch.

— You will be fine — She tried to sound optimistic, no matter how hopeless her were — There is this kind of antidote here, it will work for shortness of breath — She smiled, making her friend sit on the floor and taking a kind of syringe disassembled in a compartment very well hidden in the suit. Unceremoniously, she stuck the needle in Lois and injected the liquid.

— And... and you? — asked the other, losing control and laughing once more.

— **I need to help Batman** — He smiled from the corner, taking Lane's gauntlet and hurried out.

.

_**Metropolis, East Coast Docks, Shed 21 - 6 minutes to end:** _

Selina entered the shed avoiding breathing - the Joker 's poison used to have a greenish color, but this time it was practically imperceptible, however she knew that gas would dissipate fast.

She took the laptop, allowing herself to sit near the exit before doing what she wanted. Joker was so busy in one of his speeches that he didn't even notice those actions; he avoided looking at the hanging bat, he didn't want to imagine the outcome of that fight. Cunning, she managed to connect the gauntlet to that computer - after all, what would be the Bat's armor without a touch of technology - and, through this, managed to penetrate the private locations of the machine and start downloading the files.

There were lots and lots of data there, probably useful, and she was trying to stay focused on transferring that data instead of watching Joker torturing Batman. However, at one point, reinforcement for the bat arrived in the Batmobile - which she thought was Tim or Dick. She followed the short fruitless pursuit; then he returned to paying attention only to data transfer when the killer clown hung on the bat, scaling and hurting him even more.

The transfer was already at 97%

The time display indicated only one minute.

There would be no time to help Batman.

Selina looked at the bat again through the cameras, he remained motionless, with the Prince of Crime clinging to him and laughing. She didn't want this to be the last time she saw her boyfriend, but she had to admit: he would die like a hero.

She always imagined that the end of that fight would be with another loser, however, there is no way to lose when you are on the right side... and she envied that, because Batman was always on the right side - side that she would not do part, because there was nothing to hold her there.

The data transfer is finally over.

She sent everything she had collected to the Batcomputer - her last good deed, because the next ones would be as dirty as needed to defeat the Joker once and for all.

Speaking of which, the bastard was getting something out of his pocket, probably one of his deadly toys.

He pressed it against Batman's cheek at the end of a smile.

**It was literally the end.**

The computer showed “00:00”, indicating that it was all over, and then it exploded.

Among the few things Selina managed to think about before completely losing consciousness, was how unpredictable that damn maniac could be... and that, even at a distance, she and the bat would have the same end, at the same time.

.

_**Metropolis, East Coast Docks, Concierge - a few seconds after the end:** _

Lois was curled up on the floor. She could breathe, but she couldn't control the muscles in my face, continued with that pathetic and forced smile, which made my cheeks numb.

When she heard the sound of an explosion, she thought it was just another hallucination caused by that drug - heaven, she would be lucky if she managed to write a worthy story until the next morning.

— Mom...

She laughed.

He recognized his son's unmistakable voice, thinking it was a hallucination too. Even the dead doorman she chose to believe was an illusion.

— Mom, I swear I didn't disobey badly!

The journalist finally focused on the vision towards the door and there was her son, wearing the “fantasy” of Superboy, with the cape wrapping part of Selina, who was in his arms... that seemed a bad sign.

— ... Is... — Lois had to interrupt the question to give a low laugh and finally continue: — ... Alive?

His lips curled in a thin line. His gaze fell on the woman he held in his arms, with the cloak that covered what could no longer be recognized as a body. The journalist had a fit of laughter while a few tears ran from her eyes, only making the moment even worse.

— I-I'm just going to try to fix things and come back here, I swear! — It was all that the boy managed to say before the sobs came - there was no doubt, it was Jonathan — It will be all right!

Lois Lane just let another laugh out, long and distressing. She had no idea what had happened, but when Joker was involved in something, one could only hope for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few people know, but the only time the Wayne Mansion physical address was mentioned was during the Batman: The Animated Series (that Batman cartoon that was shown on TV). In the animation Batman: Beyond (my favorite), the Wayne Mansion remains in the same place and very similar to how it was before, except for some added “modernities”.
> 
> Lois said something about “reviving Stilletto” and here's the explanation: in the TV series Smallville, Lois Lane becomes a crime fighter with a costume, mask and all, called Stilletto. All of this happened when she went to save her cousin from an assault - wearing a beautiful evening dress with high heels - and the bandit thought she was "another one of those heroes in costume".
> 
> Still talking about Lois, in Superman (Rebirth) n. 5, she uses the gauntlet of the Infernal Bat costume very well. To this day, I don't know if she gave it back to Batman - since she considers it a souvenir - and I don't even know if Superman helped rebuild the BatCave in the moon…


	40. Chandelier

Damian woke up to his own cry of pain.

He flinched and held his head tightly, turning from side to side on the bed.

The darkness of the room made him doubt whether he managed to open his eyes or they were still closed due to such pain.

A lightning bolt that illuminated the room made him sure they were open, however. It also made him sure that it wasn’t a monster that attacked him while he slept or something, that the loud, repetitive noise wasn’t that beast scratching the floor with its claws: it was just that annoying ringing in the ear, worse than than every other time, **reminding him of an unreasonable desire to end it.**

— ... Pen-nyworth? — called almost in a whisper, forcing himself to stop the sobs of crying to be able to speak.

Silence.

And with the silence, the child tried to wrap himself in the blankets and sleep again, but that buzz just made it worse: it scared him, afraid of what he might be able to do to end it...

— ... Mr Pennyworth! — he called again, forcing himself to speak louder.

In addition to the silence in the mansion, there was thunder outside.

After a few minutes writhing in bed, Damian forced himself to get up and go search for someone. When he put his feet on the ground, he could feel like everything was moving around him. It took seconds to get up the courage and take a few steps - **always leaning on something.**

— Mr. Pennyworth! — he insisted, this time calling the butler at the door. For some reason still unknown to him, being alone seemed to be the closest to **torture.**

There was no sign of Alfred.

There was nobody.

The mansion had all its lights out, save the one in Tim's room.

Damian cringed, pressing his hands against his head and allowing the tears to flow. He was already starting to get irritated by that pain, mainly because it made him cry. He cried, cried a lot and for anything, but that pain... **he knew somehow that he had already felt worse pains than that...**

— Dick...! — he whispered to himself, interrupting all thoughts. He walked with his slow steps to his older brother's room — Dick? — he called after knocking softly on the door, giving himself the freedom to open when he received no answers. He wasn't there, he probably went on a date with his girlfriend.

The child tried to remain calm and walked to the next door, the other brother's room, and called:

— Jason? Jay...? — He opened the door, being disappointed that the rebel brother had not yet returned.

 **Desperate,** Damian used what little strength he still had to go to his father's room, the only one with the door ajar. The little one simply dropped on the floor when he saw that it was empty too - he was **exhausted.**

— ... Dad!?

He called, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. It was no use when he begged for his father during the examinations that that damned doctor forced him to do, it would not do now with **Bruce so far away from him** \- in those secret meetings.

— ... Mom...?

He whimpered, unsure whether she wanted Selina to show up to hug him or whether she wanted her real mother to show up so that he finally knew who she was, however troublesome.

— ... Someone... — whispered — ... Anyone...!

**No one came.**

Even so, the pain gradually eased and, with that, he felt extremely relaxed on the cold floor of his parents' room, all he had to do was close his eyes to sleep again. But he didn't want to sleep. Not there, not alone, not in pain being able to return to sleep anytime.

The child got up, exhausted, shuffling his feet to get back to the room. The room he slept in, by the way, was his old room - the little one never understood why Dick always took him there.

He was not sure what to do there other than sleep or draw, because they were the only two things he was allowed to do there. That is until he saw the promised toy lying next to the bed - a small gray bird with an orange spot on its chest.

— ... It seems to be real... — he whispered to himself, taking the small artificial animal and looking more closely - it made him want to remember something, **something important.** After carefully analyzing little Robin, he took the remote control - he wanted to prove to the irritating brother that he knew how to use that toy.

It took only a few minutes for Damian to learn to use that unsuccessful little prototype. Even without understanding how, he knew how to use that remote control as if he had been doing it for years - maybe he did and he just didn't remember.

He was so amused by the bird flying around him around the room that he didn't even remember the pain, how late it was, let alone the storm outside, however much the rays helped to illuminate the room. But suddenly, **Robin stopped obeying** the controls and flew out of the room, rising and falling like a wounded bird.

The boy did the best he could to try to reach the toy, but still could not take more than two steps without leaning on something - the leg remained in constant numbness, out of his control just like the little bird. Once outside the room, he scanned the corridor and was frustrated to find nothing, especially because he knew that the prototype could only be on the first floor, fallen and broken.

— ... Tim will be angry with me... — he murmured discontentedly, clinging to the railing of the stairs to get down and thanking mentally for his brother not having opened the door of the room until now.

To Damian's surprise, however, Robin was circling around the entrance, swirling, increasing the flight area while hitting what was in front - jars with flowers, pieces of armor and even hanging pictures. The boy tried to grab the toy out of control, but it wasn't fast enough.

— ... My father will be angry with me... — he said almost without a voice, watching as the bird broke another expensive item of decoration — ... Mr. Pennyworth too! — He even had tears in his eyes.

Desperate, he started to press all the buttons that were in control: he tried to press them in sequence, with more or less force, he even tried to shake, but it was no use. The only thing he got from Robin was a low, timed noise, like a little mechanical pule.

— ... Please...! — he asked between his teeth, getting as close as he could to that runaway bird - which was going towards a contemporary piece, apparently very expensive and probably given by Selina since it clashed with the rest of the decoration — No, damn it! — he growled irritably, giving up and throwing the controller to the floor.

Unexpectedly, the bird changed its route.

Damian, delighted to have managed to save at least one of the objects, took the remote again and tried to guide the toy back to the room. Robin obeyed each of the commands, continuing with the mechanical peep - now with shorter spaces between one and the other.

Still, when the little animal was approaching the banister, it stopped obeying controls again. The child watched him fly aimlessly, scratching himself against the mansion's high ceiling, until he stopped moving and fell - luckily or badly - getting stuck in the chandelier.

— ... Please... — he whispered trying to make the bird move, unsuccessfully — ... Please, get out of there...! — The only thing that Robin did was to release his peeps, weak and in a row, **as if it were a bird dying** — ... I'm sorry... — he asked, running a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the tears. He was tired, frustrated, and now he felt guilty for having lost the toy that way.

A strong beam illuminated everything and left the destruction caused in the decoration completely exposed, in addition to the little Robin trapped between the crystals of the chandelier. The thunder that followed soon, loudly, drowned out the last few hoots of the toy.

Damian took a few slow steps closer, forcing himself to keep his balance. He didn't even look at the ground, he was glazed at that bird and how much he wanted to remember something important related to the animal.

— ... **Robin died** — he found almost without a voice.

It was the only thing the child managed to say before he dropped to the floor, writhing in pain as he held his head again. If earlier he didn't want to cry because he had already felt worse pains, now he wanted to scream until he had no more breath, since that was surely the worst pain he ever felt: lascivious, acute, like the sting of an ice pick in the head.

As much as he tried to call for help, the voice just didn't come out.

He felt like his head was going to explode at any moment.

However, it was not his head that exploded, but the bird with the problem of overheating - after the warnings, pules, were neglected. The crystals tumbled first, sending small pieces like rain, and then the chandelier chain began to sag - weakened by the explosion.

Damian had no idea what was going on, he couldn't hear anything but a deafening creak echoing inside him. When he finally managed to open his eyes, feeling pebbles falling on his face, he saw the great chandelier coming down towards him.

Everything was clear thanks to lightning. The nearby thunderstorm drowned out the sound of steel crashing to the ground, as did Damian's cry of despair.

 **No one heard the poor child begging for help or death** \- whichever came first to free him from the writhing, heavy iron that held him.

 **No one would know that Robin died and that Damian was now dying too**.

 **No one would watch him in his last moments** \- already disillusioned with his own end, fulfilling the noxious desire that came to his mind whenever that unbearable pain in his ear appeared:

Damian took one of the metal pieces, the only one he managed to reach and which - luckily or badly - was loose; he lifted that cold, heavy piece, watching the potential; he used that to hit himself in the head with the strength he still had while he managed to move.

He wanted to break his own skull and stick his fingers inside, just to pull out that monster that kept scratching and hurting him, even if he had to die for it - **because he would die in peace.**

And so, a few attempts later, everything was in absolute silence.

**Visceral silence.**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The decoration of Wayne Mansion, as well as its architecture itself, always has touches of the Medieval Era, like sleek armor and even the old chandelier. Batman's stories and his entire universe almost always have a touch of that period, including for some titles:  
> Bruce Wayne is the Prince of Gotham;  
> Batman is the Dark Knight;  
> Robins are inspired by Robin Hood (12th century is close, right);  
> Joker is Prince Clown of Crime or Jester of the Genocide Court;  
> And so on... there are several heroes and villains that have some connection, it would be impossible to list them all here.  
> Note of Note: the fanfic continues!


	41. Posthumous

— Heavens, you should be resting! — Alfred said in an irritated tone, walking up and down the Batcave laboratory.

— ... Well — Batman murmured in a hoarse and broken voice, saving the words more than usual. He didn't want to lie down and do nothing, not after what happened. She preferred to stand beside Tim, watching him, blaming herself for letting one of her children get hurt again.

— ... Feeling well!? — The butler repeated when he was already in front of one of the computers — Define well, Master Bruce, because I would never be well after a new principle of infarction caused by narcotics and followed by respiratory intoxication!

The bat didn't even bother to answer with any excuse, he preferred to spend the energy he still had to untie his son's hair from his forehead - Timothy was unconscious, hyperventilating, while the machine was trying to stabilize his oxygen supply.

— If it weren't for Selina sending all that information, I don't know what would have happened to you two... — Alfred muttered as he put a little more liquid on the younger's respirator, disguising the sadness he felt.

— ... Should have been... me — Bruce said quietly, not making it clear whether he was talking about the death of his girlfriend or the state of his son — ... Damian — he hissed, walking towards the exit stairs.

— Don't you dare leave here before new analyzes! — Alfred warned, seeing that injured man with a bat costume nothing but the little boy who had been caring for several years — I will check Master Damian as soon as we are done here, he must be asleep — He shook his head from side to side, sighing soon after — Heavens, I don't even want to imagine the questions he's going to ask about her...

Bruce just fell silent and stared at nothing. He was never in favor of his girlfriend accepting the role of mother in his son's life. As much as he liked to see the two together, he knew that a sudden separation when Selina left would only do even more harm... and now he didn't even know how to explain to his son that she died.

— Lie — asked.

— Lie... — he repeated exhausted, causing the night watchman to lie on the stretcher in that area and put on the oxygen mask again — ... May Damian forgive all the lies I tell him... — he whispered, preparing what he would need to sew the bat's back.

— For... his good — Batman said quietly, allowing himself to relax at least while that medication took effect.

— I hope he understands this one day, Master Bruce — Alfred muttered discontented, taking off part of Batman's uniform to be able to score points.

The two were silent, making the vent that helped the two heroes the only thing audible in that lab. As the minutes passed, Bruce ended up giving in to fatigue and fell asleep. Alfred, who was trying to keep his mind occupied to the limit, devoted himself to designing more serum for the two patients - Joker had changed the gas formula, used more aggressive agents, making the total elimination of the toxin much more difficult.

Anyone looking outside would think it was a quiet and routine dawn, despite the catastrophic circumstances.

That little moment of peace, so to speak, was interrupted when Red Hood came down the stairs of the Batcave like an elephant fleeing the slaughter. The boy was desperate, running around the place looking for help, taking his little brother in his arms.

— ALFRED! — he shouted as soon as he saw the oldest.

— Christ... — the elderly man sighed seeing the state they were in: Jason covered in rainwater, mud and blood... Damian's blood, blood that left a trail where they passed. He was shocked, stopped, unable to accept that it was all real and not a nightmare.

— ALFRED, HELP DAMIAN! HELP! — the boy asked, or rather, ordered while he invaded the laboratory and started typing something on the panel with one hand.

— ... But what hap...!?

— USE THAT THING AGAIN!

— I can't use that, not after collateral damage and...! — Alfred fell silent when Jason aimed one of his weapons at him. The butler knew that boy well enough to know how out of it he was to do that — Master Jason...

— Damian. Is. Dying — he said slowly, pressing the last button he needed with the part of the pistol charger — You will save him again, Alfie — he warned, aiming again at the butler as a chamber with a greenish liquid emerged from the false wall.

— ... Master Jason, the collateral damage was very extensive!

— SAVE HIM! — grunted and shot at one of the screen next to the butler — **SAVE MY BROTHER!**

— ... Put he inside — Alfred asked approaching them. He felt his eyes sting from reliving that, especially knowing the risks, but if it was Damian's only chance - as it seemed - he would do it.

With shaky and tired hands, the butler began to prepare the child for the procedure. He cleaned the dried blood gently and tried to sew the skin in the best possible way - closed the wounds, doing her best to make it look like they were never there. It immobilized him where he needed it, where he got it.

— ... Fuck, this is taking too long! — Jason said taking off his hood and then running his hand over his face to brush his hair away, not caring if it was soiled with blood — Isn't it just throwing it in there!? It is not how it works!?

— ... No — Batman replied, finally managing to get up from where he rested - already without the oxygen mask. If it weren't for that, Jayson would still not notice that there were other people there.

— We don't know yet if it is safe to go beyond that... — Pennyworth warned — ... It took him weeks to wake up, we don't know how he will react this time.

— It's the only way to save him, hurry up! — Hood pointed the pistol again at the butler he loved so much — DO IT!

— No! — The bat took a few steps towards them.

He was annoyingly slow. Mobility was impaired too much, and this was probably the only reason Batman was unable to deflect or grab the red hood Jason threw at him and hit him in the nose. The unexpected blow forced him to stop and try to regain his balance.

The rebel was beside himself...

— DO IT, ALFRED!

— Master Jason...

— SO I DO! — he said, grabbing the butler by the shoulders and tossing him away from that capsule. Jason had already completely lost track of limits, or worse: he was willing to step over anyone.

With the care that nervousness allowed, he held Damian against him once again. The little one was pale, highlighting the marks of that near-death, deep marks, spread over the body, head and face. The green eyes, now dull, were frozen looking at nothing...

— ... Sorry, brat — Jason whispered, leaning over that capsule and immersing his brother completely in the lush liquid - he was still hugging him.

Bruce tried to reach them in time, but failed.

Alfred leaned on the benches to get up and watch that living nightmare from afar.

Jason activated the taser on the armor itself, giving the necessary electrical discharge to activate the compounds in that healing mixture. Batman, even though he knew the components of the Lazarus Well, had not yet achieved the primacy of making the liquid reusable without an external agent.

In the first few seconds, Damian remained inanimate. However, when the taser charge was near the end, the child began to give the first signs of life: he choked on his own blood while trying to breathe; hit the brother with closed fists, even though he had no idea why he was fighting; He opened his eyes, green eyes and alive this time, which showed terror and hatred. Soon after, he went back to sleep, just sleeping, with his body in a state of placidity while his brother held him.

— ... I... I did it... — the rebel whispered, releasing his brother to Alfred's care and letting himself fall to the ground. He was tired, stunned, both from the adrenaline draining from his body and from having received part of that electrical discharge.

— ... Son — Bruce called, extending a hand to him when he was close enough.

— ... Son? — the boy repeated in a mocking tone — Are you going to start calling me son now? Are you going to worry about me too, _**Daddy**_? — said the last word as if it were an offense — YOU LET YOUR CHILD DIE!

— I did not want...!

— HE WOULD DIE ALONE AS I DIED! — Hit the bat in the hand, getting up on its own — **ALONE!**

— Master Jason... — Alfred started, but was interrupted before any other words.

— Have you tried to imagine how horrible it is to die without ever feeling loved? You only notice it when you die alone! — He already had reddened eyes from a contained cry — ... You, _**Daddy**_ , can only love someone after the person dies! You loved your parents, you loved me and then you started to love Dami... but we just come back from the dead that you stop caring! — He took the pistol again, trembling, pointing at Bruce.

— Jason! — the butler screamed in panic, trying to call that rebellious child back to him. If he hadn't been supporting Damian, he would have slipped between them.

— It is true! — He pointed the gun at his head this time — YOU WANT EVERYONE TO DIE! — the boy shouted angrily, looking at Batman as if he were an enemy.

— No! — Bruce used the nervousness he felt like energy to get the gun out of his hands - it was easier than expected, it was a bluff.

The family rebel was looking at his father without wanting to accept that he would really save him, he wanted someone to be able to blame for everything bad that happened in life... Batman, Bruce, or whatever personality that inhabited that tired body now, he simply looked at his son as if he were a child who had just made fun of - he didn't know whether to scold him, ask for forgiveness or just ignore what happened.

Both were silent, facing each other.

The few sounds that were in that laboratory were from the machines, including the one that helped young Timothy to breathe... that was, until, suddenly, the boy took off his mask, sitting on the stretcher and started laughing. They were loud and husky laughter, with features of despair accompanying them - they lasted as long as the boy's lungs managed to hold.

— Gentlemen, I ask you to leave — Pennyworth said almost between his teeth, placing Damian on the stretcher next to his brother and hurrying to attach Timmy's mask again.

It would be a long night for the butler.

Todd did as he was told and left with dragged steps, without even picking up the gun and hood that were thrown on the floor. Batman went after him, worried:

— I don't want anything bad to happen to you... I never did.

The rebellious son stopped, stared at the bat and took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket; he tried to light it up, only getting even more irritated when it didn't work - he was soaked in rain. Like yet another of his childhood tantrums, he threw his lighter and cigarettes at the Knight.

Bruce let it be, patient. Not because he knew Jason would make a mistake or something, but because he would wait until his son could get rid of that bitterness that had corrupted him for years. A beloved pack of cigarettes and a lighter would not hurt anything, but those accusations hurt, especially with the circumstances of that night: the heart - already broken and out of order - no longer knew how to deal with the feeling of loss, no more... not beyond all the ones it had.

Todd laughed scornfully as he took the other pistol he was carrying. He was out of ammunition - he had to spend everything he had on solving his own affairs. He threw the gun at the watchman's feet - he didn't even try to hit him this time - and resumed the conversation:

— ... I removed the brat under a chandelier... — he murmured — ... Do you have any idea how much I screamed for help? The brat... how much the brat must have screamed for help!? I was alone! ... ALONE **! YOU ABANDONED** **HIM** **!**

— I did not want...

— ... I was so scared! — The boy took a deep breath, as if he were about to scream, but whispered: — ... I was just a child, he was... and it was my fault...! — He stared at his father with eyes full of tears, as if he wanted to cry out in pain and the voice just wouldn't come out.

The worst thing for Jason, besides blaming himself for Damian getting hurt again, was reliving the death of the child he was. A lonely death, of abandonment and guilt. Batman, who approached him as slowly as he could in order not to startle him, said only what should have been said every time Jason went through one of those crises:

— It was never your fault, son...

— ... But I wanted to... go ... I had... to go...

— You were still a child, Jason. You disobeyed me, was inconsequential, but you was just a child — He reached out to him again — ... I never knew how to take care of children...

— And don't know how to cook...

— And how to cook — Bruce tried to smile, as devastated as he was now — I promise I'll learn this time... — Carefully, he rested his hand on his son's shoulder. Jason not trying to push him away was satisfying enough, but when the boy held his arm so he wouldn't pull away... that surprised him - the first good surprise that night.

— ... You never learn to cook — he said quietly.

— This time is different — he whispered, promising himself that he would really do everything he could to be different.

The Knight of Gotham decided to start trying to show a little more the affection he felt for his children: he got closer to Jason to hug him. It was impossible for him not to see his son just as a rebellious child... he should have hugged him more often.

— ... I will not trust you this time — the boy stared at him. He was serious, his eyes overflowing with resentment - there was fear, pain, anger... but the resentment at that moment was overcoming everything — Everyone who trusts you ends up dying alone, B...

— Son...

— It's too late to try to fix things, _**Daddy**_ — he bit that word bitterly, breaking free of the hug and doing the first act of a deplorable revenge for the child - be it Damian or himself -, a short act with wide consequences:

He used the little charge the taser still had against his father. It was not much, but what was necessary for Batman to fall on his knees, squeezing his chest as if his heart was going to escape - what was necessary to hurt what was already hurt, to punish those who already blamed themselves.

Jason left his father there, alone, suffering almost nothing compared to his children.

Alone for a little while, because soon Alfred would go after them and, if it wasn't, Dick would go - the jet was entering the cave again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Batman knows the recipe at the Lazarus Pit, but he doesn't know how to make a microwave popcorn... Jokes aside, it is true that Batman is one of the very few people in the DC universe who knows the recipe for these pit.  
> In Batman Beyond n. 44, it is revealed that he has a chamber with this liquid, when he uses it to save Damian after an attack by Zero - the healing fluid is better than any treatment that a hospital can offer.  
> Lazarus Pit are wells of normally green water, capable of healing, rejuvenating and even resurrecting people - Ra’s al Ghul has survived through the centuries using them. Even though it looks like something miraculous, it has an expensive price to use: over time, the health of those who use them is damaged (varies a lot, but the state of momentary fury is almost always present).  
> For those who are not used to not have enough preparation for these waters the state of fury / insanity can be permanent; for those who use it frequently, the water is no longer so effective (that's why Ra’s died in the animation Son of Batman).  
> The creation of these pits is extremely difficult because it is necessary to know the recipe and have places on the Ley Lines available (a complex term to explain, it is like a route between important areas geographically and historically).  
> There are many variants involved in the Lazarus Pit: most of them become unusable after the first use, but there are some special ones that can be used over and over again (since you can convert them into “inexhaustible”); side effects may not appear or be strong enough to make the user a slave; for resurrection, the death must be recent (the time varies, from hours to months); etc.  
> Note to note: Jason was really a tough kid when Robin. In addition to that super cute scene of Bruce deciding to stay at home with him when the boy got a bad flu instead of patrolling, there were other times when Jason was unable and decided to help (I vaguely remember one where he had a broken leg, but I couldn't find the comic before posting the chapter).  
> Even though he was a rebel, he was very helpful to Bruce. One of my favorite examples is in The Messiah, when the wonder boy goes down to the manholes behind the bat - there is a very funny scene when seen out of context in this story: Robin slapping Batman in the face!


	42. Extra

— It is impossible to be angry at you... — Starfire smiled, running his hand gently over Dick's back. The boy was sitting next to her on the couch, his face completely hidden in his friend's neck... he was looking for comfort.

— ... So do you accept my apologies?

— It is complicated to explain... — The alien took a more serious tone, staring at the window again and leaving the smile aside — ... I am not forgiving you for hiding so many things from me, but I am revealing it because it is a serious problem that it affects you, Batman, the Titans... and that is still a family problem. You and your family are handling it as you see fit.

— And what do you think is right? — He moved away just enough to meet her eyes.

— Wait.

— More? It's been months and so far...!

— Months passed and Damian woke up — Starfire interrupted him — It may take a few more until Robin wakes up.

Dick leaned against her shoulder again, but he continued to look into her eyes - lost in that bright, intense green. It took a few seconds for him to say more, a question whose answer from a person as sincere as Kori would be able to dispel any pessimistic thoughts:

— ... Do you really think he will come back?

— If he doesn't come back, we can ask Ravena for help — Kori smiled, looking at him once more. That optimistic and encouraging smile that made it impossible to resist the charms of that Tamaran princess, especially with an old love that was not resolved.

Dick continued to stare, approaching as subtly as he could. He didn't want to be too rushed and ruin that moment with the only person who knew all the hell he was living in...

Starfire, who knew him so well, controlled his instincts not to lean over Richard and kiss him first. They both wanted that, it was a necessity, but she waited until one of his hands was on the back of the neck to lean in his direction... he who needed to give the signal, it was he who was in pieces and it was he who he needed a little more comfort - however tempting the idea was to “take advantage” of that state.

Before that longed-for kiss was realized, an alarm sounded and completely interrupted the mood. A robotic voice announced: “Alert - Unidentified object flying over the coast towards the tower. Collision in thirty-two seconds ”.

At the same moment Kori got up and prepared to go and see what it was. She was just finishing opening her bedroom window when Dick commented with some grace:

— You don't lead anything else, do you?

Starfire simply winked at him and went out the window.

Richard went to watch her, both because he liked to see his old girlfriend in action and out of curiosity or an uncontrollable need to leave everything behind and behave like just a guest there. The days as leader of the Titans were still vivid in him.

A few seconds later he saw Raven going in the same direction as Starfire. Whatever it was, it seemed to be serious, although there were no explosions, no destructive lightning or even a sign of struggle.

It all happened relatively fast, even though thirty seconds seems long to someone who just watches impatiently, like Dick.

He managed to spot the two heroines returning to the base, both holding something, but he only managed to identify what it was when they were close: Kori was bringing a child and Rachel a person or something close to it wrapped in a red fabric. As they approached it was possible to hear that child's cry of despair and, when they were close enough to enter through Starfire's bedroom window, Dick finally recognized that crying baby:

— Jon!?

— Superboy is not well, you know what could have happened? — Kori looked at Dick with concern on his face.

— ... Whatever it is, the worst happened to her... — Raven murmured as she headed to a far corner of the room, she couldn't waste any more time.

— No, I don't know anything about him since when B told him to stop spying and... — Finally he noticed that child, who now lived up to Damian's nickname. — Hey, Jon... what happened? What left you like this?

The boy, who was far from looking powerful, just cringed more and continued to cry. Kori hugged him a little more and then explained only what he knew:

— Something made him very scared...

— … Desperate. — Raven corrected her practically in a whisper, ignoring everything around soon afterwards. As affected as she was by the turmoil of emotions in that room, she wanted to do something to help... if she still had time.

Richard sighed and practiced his skills with desperate children - he had acquired them by taking care of Damian. He took Jon on his lap and sat with him on the sofa, taking Raven and that still unknown person out of sight of the little one, and then he started:

— Wow... desperate and saving people? If it were me, I would have hidden! — Managing to win a little of the boy's attention, he continued: — ... you know, sometimes when I was still a Robin, I hid under the cover of Batman...

— ... Did he really leave? — Kori asked incredulously.

— Kori...

— I can't imagine Batman allowing this kind of behavior from the helper...

— Kori! — Dick repeated again, indicating little Jon with a look — ... we were talking about how brave Superboy is.

— But that we all already know — the girl smiled and stroked the little boy's hair.

Jonathan Kent continued to cry, hugging and ignoring both of them. He had been strong enough until that moment, when he could finally be the usual crybaby... he didn't want to be strong now.

— And even if you are very brave, you need help now — Dick resumed — But we can only help you if we know what happened.

Superboy, using the little bit of self-control that a ten-year-old child could still have at that moment, tried to stop crying and explain between sobs:

— Smu-uggling, docks... gas Joke-er... — He stared at Dick and stellar who, just hearing that name, already knew the seriousness of that situation. He continued, shouting the last two words and going into despair again: — Bo-bomb! Ma-mama...!

With as much care as he could manage, Dick handed the boy over to Starfire's care once again and stood up. Slowly, he got close enough to Rachel to see for himself what had left Jonathan in that state.

All I had been able to understand in those words was that something bad, very bad happened. Something bad, but with Lois... he never imagined that that body still wrapped in the red cloak could be someone else's.

— No, no, no... no, no...! — he repeated, letting himself fall into the same state of dismay as that child.

— ... Do you know her? — Raven asked almost in a whisper.

— **... Selina!** — Dick sighed, letting some tears escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is not much to put in the final notes, so I will explain a power that is practically one of Raven's weaknesses: she can feel the emotions of everyone around her, however, she always feels those emotions and there is no way "filter" nothing - she had to learn to live with it. It must be bad to deal with villains knowing what they feel…  
> An idiotic curiosity: while the Spanish translations kept several names in the original, in Portuguese (BR) most of them were translated. Starfire is called Estelar (something from space, from the stars) and Raven, despite a small change, is called Ravena (it's just a variation of the name, although it is not usual in Brazil - mainly because crows are called "corvos").


	43. Remedy

Alfred needed a vacation.

In so many years of this vital work, it was the first time that he had succumbed to the recurring thoughts of going to some remote island or country house away from civilization and spending at least a few days away from everything and everyone - away from problems. However, before any possibility of making that wish a concrete truth, he needed to take care of the children. He wanted everything to be fine and in order, because then he would be able to relax.

For the time being, when everything was in chaos, those thoughts are what kept you in your head. Only then, distracted, could he put his emotions aside and pretend he was just doing a routine job...

Immobilize, examine... these acts had already become routine, in fact, but the situation was completely different: Damian hadn't been hurt fighting crime or something like his brother - he didn't even remember how to fight - he got hurt inside the house, alone, in a terrible "domestic accident".

They were neglecting that boy. All. Which did not lessen the guilt the steward felt.

— He... well? — Tim asked almost without a voice when he managed to catch his breath again. He was still sitting, looking at Alfred and his younger brother.

— Stable vital signs, wounds with good healing... — The butler walked to the monitors — ... fractures appear to be over 80% healing.

— ... Did he do well?

— It is impossible to be sure — he sighed — Apparently he is fine, as he was the other time, but we have no way of knowing when he will wake up again or what will be the collateral damage... — Alfred stood next to Damian again — I fear that the only certainty about his condition is that we need to remain optimistic.

— ... His memory... back? — the boy ended up letting out a low laugh after that. Fortunately, the effects of the laughing gas were already passing.

— Master Tim, as much as it pains me to say something like this, I must admit: his memory is the least important compared to other sequels — He passed his hand through the child's hair in a soft caress, they were still wet with that viscous liquid. The only remaining mark of what happened was a small scar on his left eyebrow, the only place where the butler thought he didn't need stitches before the procedure.

— ... B? — Timothy asked while lying on the stretcher once again.

— ... Master Bruce? — For a few minutes, Alfred had completely forgotten about the state of Batman — Heavens, that he has not been on patrol again! — he muttered, leaving the laboratory willing to keep that inconsequential at rest even if he needed to chain him to one of the stretchers.

The butler didn't have to go very far to find the bat lying on the floor, trying to crawl up the stairs while, visibly, he was in pain. Alfred didn't want to say anything, let alone ask what had happened - it was obvious, cigarettes, a lighter and a gun were lying nearby, evidence that Jason was really out of his mind. He simply tried to help the knight to get up and walk to the laboratory once again.

— No... — Bruce murmured. He tried at all costs to go in the opposite direction, towards the exit, no matter how much he needed to lean on Alfred to stay upright — Jason!

— Master Bruce, please! ... Think of Damian, you need to be well to take care of him! — The other seemed to ponder the possibilities and then risked letting go of the butler and going to the stairs again — Master Bruce, he is not even able to stand! How do you think you'll be able to run around after him!? — Pennyworth asked making it clear that his patience was lacking.

— Need! — was justified with a hoarse and failed voice.

— And I need a vacation! — said angrily — Master Bruce, he will come back sooner or later...! Let him go, think about what you did while...!

— **I** **Need!** — he repeated once more, he was nervous.

— Need what, B? — Dick asked approaching them and trying to understand what had happened there - he had just arrived — You are terrible... what happened? — When the boy noticed the things lying on the floor, the trail of blood and mud, he was nervous and asked again: — What happened here!?

— Many things... — Alfred sighed — It doesn't matter now, what matters is the state of that stubborn one! He refuses to go with me and I don't even have the strength to do it anymore!

— Your brother! — Bruce grabbed Dick by the shoulder, leaning on him in the best way he could. He felt his heart close to the limit, his vision blurred as well as his thoughts, all mixed up… — ... Go... Beh-hind him!

— Which brother? — Grayson held him — Tim, Jason? ... Damian? No, not Damian... or yes? — I was almost as confused as my father.

— Master Jason left and is out of control! — Alfred answered for Wayne.

— Jay is always out of control! — Dick tried to make one of his jokes, but a stronger grip on Bruce brought him back to the cruel reality of that dawn:

— He... hurt himself... — he tried to explain, but his throat barely allowed him to speak a complete sentence. Much to the chagrin, Nightwing held him a little more tightly and started taking him to the lab once again. Desperate, Bruce asked: — **Go!**

— I will go, but you also need care! — said in a tone serious enough to keep Bruce silent and cooperating.

Back in the lab, Batman - what was left of him - was forced to lie down on the last stretcher that was still free. Beside him was Damian, unconscious, still wet with viscous, greenish liquid; he just looked asleep, just like Tim, who was on the first stretcher.

— I will want to know everything that happened when I return... — Dick told Alfred while gently stroking the younger brother's face, wondering what would have happened just by seeing the small scar — I will go after Jason before he does anything nonsense... — he murmured tiredly, now going to Timothy — I left my communicator with Strfire, I will use Tim's for now.

— Keep us informed, Master Dick — asked Alfred, watching him walk away.

— Ah, I almost forgot: Jon is bringing her! She was infected by the Happy Gas, but the antidote I gave didn't work right! — he warned without even looking back, he wanted to find the family rebel soon.

— Bringing... her? — the butler repeated without understanding — ... Could it be...? — It allowed a silly smile to appear on the face, with hopes that it could be...

— Selina!? — Bruce interrupted the older man's murmurs, sitting on the stretcher and struggling to distinguish the two approaching figures, visible on one of the computer screens by the security cameras: one was that of little Jonathan Kent, the other he had more hope than certainty.

— Master Bruce, restrain yourself! — Pennyworth asked while forcing him to lie down again.

The two were silent and waited for the visitors to approach. They were already close, but they were constantly pausing - probably because of the uncontrolled laughter that the gas caused. When they finally arrived at the lab, it was impossible for the butler to disguise the clear disappointment while asking:

— Please, young Jonathan, could you take your mother to that chair over there? — indicated the accent in which he usually sat when he needed to take care of a sick person — Do not let the mess make a bad impression, things are gradually resolving and...

— No! — Bruce grunted, unable to contain his frustration and forced himself to sit on the stretcher once more - if he had more strength, he would have risen from there and gone after his son or even Selina's body. I needed to do something to feel useful, to feel that I still had a reason not to die too and just leave Batman alive.

— No? — Superboy faced Wayne and the butler then, denouncing how distressed he was feeling — Dick said they would help my mom...

— And she will be great! — Alfred tried to sound as optimistic as possible.

— I would only look great after a bath with salts, Pennyworth — The journalist barely managed to finish her sentence before a fit of laughter and coughing started. She had to dwell on her son even more to be able to stand.

— Is not fair! — Bruce looked at Lois once again, just feeling his heart break even more because she was not his beloved cat there, alive.

— It's stress, ignore it... — the elderly asked in a whisper.

And so, the butler started pacing back and forth examining important exams and data, preparing yet another antidote form, trying to put something or other in place;

Timmy enjoyed a heavy, well-deserved sleep;

Lois, sitting in the chair next to the millionaire, received the blessed medication - the only one that had a complete effect, allowing her to undo the stupid smile and end the involuntary laughter;

Jon tried to control his curiosity and just look at his shoes or his mother - tempting as it was to find out what happened to Damian and why Batman was crying in silence.

Everyone obeyed, pretended that Bruce wasn't even there - in fact, he seemed to be in a deep trance as he murmured meaningless words and allowed the tears to finally flow. The millionaire, of everyone in that place, was the only one who was not receiving care, as there were no remedies for the sadness or pain of the loss, it was up to Bruce himself to deal with the bitter defeat he felt as he thought best:

— Son... cat... alone... Jason away... — Bruce murmured, brooding over the bitterness and waiting for the moment when she would finally become the strength he needed to get up and do something useful — ... It should have been me — he sighed.

— Bruce, you are starting to scare me! — Lois commented — What is all this for? It's gonna be okay!

— Nothing is okay! — he answered her in a cold, almost harsh way, making it clear that he did not want motivational conversations - he did not want to be taken out of that anguished meditation.

— Of course it is! — She coughed a little before continuing: — Where's the "inconsequential father" who wants to take care of the children?

— You have no idea how...

— I don't even know what happened to Damian! — interrupted him — Not this time or the other: I don't know what happened and, honestly, I don't want to know! The only thing I don't understand is why you are there, suffering, instead of recovering to help him!

— I don't need to recover, I need...

— Yes, you need to recover! — She interrupted him once more, dodging coughs just to get his attention: — Look at those bruises on his back! — He got up and got closer to Bruce - at this point, she no longer even remembered that she needed to keep her breathing mask.

— Mom... — Jon called her as low as he could - if Lois was starting to get scared, Superboy was already sure that the sad Batman is scarier than he is angry.

— Selina takes chances to find a way to help you and for what? For you to stay there, doing all this drama, instead of just getting some sleep!? If you get worse, who will take care of these children? Alfred, as always!? You are their father!

— Mom, I think he still doesn't know about...

— She is dead, my son in a coma, one is in a terrible state and the other left the house uncontrolled! Do you think I can sleep!?

— Yes!

Lois Lane's persuasion was second only to courage - stubbornness or stupidity, most convenient. There, she did not see Batman and not even the millionaire who could be said to be “owner” of Gotham, she saw only a sad friend who was not acting as he should have acted in that situation and, as a good friend she is, needed to intervene:

Taking advantage of the bat's exhaustion, she practically dropped it on the gurney and pinned it lying on its shoulders. As irritated as he seemed, Bruce was unable to push her and get up - if he had some strength, he would have been up long ago.

— Mom! — Jonathan tried to scold her, but was ignored.

— ... I'll get a tranquilizer! — Alfred warned, without making it clear whether it was for the bat or the journalist. He hurried over to one of the cabinets to look for the blessed sedative.

— Let me go, Lois! — Bruce grunted.

— ... Mother, let him go! — Jonathan tried again, embracing the uncontrolled journalist in a vain attempt to stop her.

— No way! — He laughed, maybe still under the influence of gas or because he simply wanted to laugh — You will stay there, lying down, even if I need to tie you to this stretcher!

— ... Tie to the stretcher? Clark will love to hear about it... — Selina said with some grace, watching the whole scene from the entrance to the laboratory. She didn't have to be as silent as usual to surprise them, after all, she got there at the beginning of that discussion - nobody noticed her, not until that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you guys, thinking that I was going to kill the sexiest cat in HQ’s in an Extra! If I'm really going to kill Selina, believe me, I'll be much more cruel. Now about killing characters in Extras: there are some that only appear in Extras, like Starfire, for example.  
> Not that I'm going to kill more people...  
> But let me be aware: those I kill now, still dead.


	44. Extra

After managing to heal Selina, Raven had created a portal to take her directly to Wayne Mansion, or rather, to the mansion's vast garden - to prevent anyone from seeing the alternative method of travel. The cat just didn't expect to be accompanied by an extremely insistent alien:

— We can talk to his father and...!

— No — Selina answered seriously, even before the other managed to complete the question. She was walking slowly, still wearing the Superboy cloak to cover the damaged part of the uniform - while the other followed her across the lawn and continued:

— I'm sure he would authorize it, especially after his miraculous recovery and...!

— Not even.

— Dick is suffering from the lack of his brother...

— ... The answer remains no.

— We miss Damian too!

— Already said no! — Selina said sharply, she was not in a position to accept stubbornness.

— ... He is our friend, it is normal for us to want to help — Kori tried to justify the attacks. As much as she tried to be optimistic, she was just as anxious as Dick for the young titan to return to normal.

— Help not getting involved in this — the oldest asked.

— But Damian...!

— He is fine! — She started to walk a little faster, they were already relatively close to the mansion's entrance — Despite the crises, the fear, the childish behavior... It's the first time he's been having any time with his family, instead of go fight crime! Let him have those moments in peace — he asked.

— So that's why they refuse help? Because they want to pretend that everything is fine when it isn't! — Kori frowned, clearly irritated by that justification.

— ... Understand as you like — he said between his teeth, finally opening the door to the place he recently called home. Before closing the entrance again, she faced the alien and warned: — I will protect my son from you as long as you still want to touch his head and force him to return to normal. When you decide to act only as friends, you are welcome. — And closed the door.

Kori spent a few seconds staring at the closed door and feeling bad about those words. She did not want to "force" Damian back to normal, she would wait as long as necessary - and tried to convince Dick that this would be the best - but it was true that she was anxious about Robin's return to the point of forgetting the frightened child that Damian was now.

Before getting lost in those thoughts and judgments of how “bad friend” was being with little D, Dick called her through the communicator:

— _Starfire, I'm with Robin Red's communicator. Don't go back to the Tower now, I need help finding the Hood._

— ... Was he not coming home? — asked as soon as he activated the communicator

— _He ran away and is out of control._

— But he is always out of control! — replied with some grace.

— _This time is different._

— It has something to do with...

— Yes — Dick interrupted her — Remember, Starfire: always use codenames and **codes.**

— Okay, Nightwing!

And with that answer, the alien took flight. He started scouring the mansion's surroundings and then went downtown, surprised by the relative quiet of the night - if it weren't for the two assault attempts she prevented, there wouldn't have been any action, it wouldn't have been Gotham.

Allowing himself to rest a few minutes on top of any building and observe the beautiful cloudy sky with reflected lights, Starfire began to remember the doubt that had not been resolved in the last conversation with Dick. Taking advantage of the communicator, she resumed the subject:

— Nightwing!

— _Did you find him, Starfire?_

— Not yet, but I... — Before I could explain the reason for the contact, she was interrupted:

— _I'm getting worried, he is not even in the safe hiding place! — Dick was distressed, starting to be afraid of what his brother could do._

— Let's find him! — Kori tried to sound optimistic.

— _Hope so..._

— Er... Nightwing!

— Yes, Starfire?

— _... did Batman really let you hide under his cloak?_

— Starfire! — sighed.

— It is normal to be scared, but that would hinder in the middle of a confrontation and...

— _I did not hide in fear, I only hid there because the colors of my uniform were too striking! — He was angry, probably frustrated at not having found Todd yet - or just embarrassed._

— So he allowed it?

— _Yes..._

— And were you behind him or...?

— _Starfire! We are in an open channel!_

— I'm just trying to understand! — despite the justification, she let a laugh slip away — It must be terrifying for a malefactor when Batman opens the cover and a little boy with colorful clothes comes out!

— _Could you...!?_

— _A fearful little boy with colorful clothes! — Another one got into the conversation._

— Jason! — Kori let a smile escape, after all, if he was making his bad jokes it's because he was fine.

— _Where did you go!?_

— Was he listening to us all this time? — Starfire asked confused — We are after you!

— _I thought they were talking about how ridiculous it is for Dick to hide under the bat cloak when he gets scared... — scoffed._

— _And you curled up in it when you got cold!_

— _Hey!_

— ... Is she warm? — Kori leaned on one of the building's gargoyles, thoughtful — I always thought she was made of cold material...

— _Ask the Hood, he who slept curled up with her!_

— _I didn't sleep at all!_

— _Yes, I did!_

— _Shut up, fearful!_

— _Shut up, little bird!_

The two boys would continue in that fight all night, if it weren't for one more person getting into the conversation and making a compromising comment to the two boys:

— _No matter the reason, you were so cute wrapped around the cover when you were little! — Selina said like someone who wanted nothing, letting out a laugh shortly afterwards._

Starfire had to cover his mouth with his hands to avoid laughter, but he was unable to avoid a question that had been consuming him for a long time:

— ... Would Batman allow me to touch his cover?

— _Yea! — Dick replied optimistically, continuing shortly after: — It is good to see that your sense of humor remains the same, Catwoman._

— _Sense of humor? Can't I find children wrapped in colorful covers something adorable?_

— _It must be a side effect of the Happy Gas..._

— _Happy Gas? What happened to you? — Jason asked a little more seriously._

— _Let's say I spent one of my seven lives playing with a bomb... meow._

— _Fuck, what a mess! You're so beautiful to die like that, because of B..._

— _Ah Jason! — she laughed — I preferred when she called me Aunt Selina!_

— _Codenames! Use the codenames, please! — Dick asked._

— I'm glad I didn't do it this time — Starfire murmured against that rule in the midst of such a casual conversation - forgetting that they could still hear it.

— _Your father is worried about you, what happened? — Selina asked._

— _I just don't want to be close to that asshole now, it's his fault..._

— What is his fault, Jay?

— _... He didn't tell, did he? — the boy sighed — The brat almost died again because they left him alone! I sent you to look after him, Dick, and you leave him with Bruce!_

— _Jason, I needed to leave and...!_

— _Everyone dropped the brat alone and a fucking chandelier fell on him!_

— A... a chandelier? — Starfire whispered disconcerted — Is he okay?

— _As far as possible — the cat replied._

— _It is terrible, in coma again! — the rebel sighed once more, apparently he was smoking cigarettes — ... Damn! If my dwarf doesn't wake up, it's your fault!_

— _Jason, it's not our fault! — Dick tried to intervene, but by the tone of his voice you could already tell he was devastated - and blaming himself._

— _YES IT IS! — grunted — I am warning you: I will only come back when the brat wakes up again... And if he does not wake up, I will end Bruce once and for all — he threatened._

Jason was too angry and probably drunk;

Dick was blaming himself for everything, he felt terrible;

Starfire was shocked at how extensive the family's problems were becoming;

Selina chose to switch off the communicator before getting into that fight;

Everyone was silent for a few seconds, until Oracle finally spoke:

— _Red Hood located in Manchester, via Manchester, section 15. The closest is Starfire._

— Understood! — The alien responded taking flight again.

— _But I... — Dick tried to intervene, but Oracle interrupted him first:_

— _**You will give me some answers!**_

It was the last thing Starfire heard over the communicator, before it was disabled again. One thing she had to admit: despite the tension involved and all the family problems, they behaved like a family... not a traditional one, but a family of friends and companions, just as she saw the Teen Titans.

On the hunt for the fugitive, it was not difficult for the alien to find the rebel: there was only him lying on the floor of that deserted highway - with bottles of drinks and cigarettes scattered around. To help further, next to him was a beautiful BMW with the top down and the alarm going off.

— Jason... — She called to him when his feet reached the ground, already close to him.

— No matter what you say, I won't be back! — warned loud and clear, taking a drag on his cigarette and releasing the smoke afterwards.

— ... That car... — Starfire stared at the vehicle — Did he steal it?

— I **found** him...

— Where? On here?

— In the mansion garage ...

— ... And your motorcycle?

— I don’t know... — He took another drag on his cigarette, releasing the smoke and then spilling the little liquid he had in one of the bottles in his mouth — It may be parked somewhere, blown up or at the bottom of the ocean, as it is will i know? — Laughed — This damn alarm doesn't let me think straight.

Starfire, aiming at practicality, shot one of its rays in the car. With the damage, the vehicle went silent - with a little smoke coming out of the hood.

— Problem solved — She smiled, extending a hand for him to get up.

— ... Batman won't let you touch his cover after this one! — He laughed again, a nervous laugh — Damn, at least the alarm was distracting me! I've seen myself die about five times and... forget it, I'm just going crazy...

— You are just sad — She kept her smile and her hand extended — We can talk — he offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barbara Gordon is the daughter of overprotective Commissioner Gordon (the guy who lights Batsinal and helps Batman by giving police files). Her father never supported her interest in joining the Gotham police, which encouraged her to become Batgirl.  
> My favorite version of her is in the Silver Age, where she was a librarian with Princess Leia style bun and glasses (first appeared in Detective Comics n. 359; before the 1970s). Batman and Robin didn't know her identity when she started acting - which made it all the more interesting, since she was "just" a librarian who wanted to fight crime.  
> Over time, despite the changes, she always remained as the young girl who wanted to fight crime alongside Batman and, most of the time, hid it from her father - as much as he had already discovered that his daughter it was Batgirl. That was until The Killing Joke, when the Joker leaves her paraplegic (he didn't just do that in that arc).  
> Immobilized from the waist down, Barbara continued her fight against crime, but not like the Batgirl who jumped between buildings and ran everywhere. She adopted the Oracle identity and used her computer skills to provide any kind of important information that Batman might need.  
> Oracle did not only act as a bat helper, it was also one of the “founders” of the Birds of Prey, alongside Black Canary. The two fought crime in the city, with Oracle giving information and coordinating and Canary acting.  
> I was in doubt whether or not to place Barbara Gordon “just” as Batgirl. Finally, I decided to put her as the Oracle in her spare time, as it is an aid job, which explains why she did not discover anything about Damian in those two weeks in which the fanfic has happened so far (she was too busy).


	45. Limbo

_**Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - night of the second day:** _

.

It was already night, a calm night.

From all the turmoil, the nights in Gotham were strangely calm. Joker was acting silently in one of his grand and meaningless plans, or he just went on vacation after "murdering" the cat.

Bruce, more physically and psychologically stable, remained away from the patrols by consensus of all, except for him - Selina was helping to take care of him. Dick and the other members of the Batfamily took care of the city, including Jason - the rebel had returned home, but still refused to speak to Bruce and go to see Damian.

Timothy and the youngest were the only ones who were still in the lab, one unconscious and the other still detoxing. At Alfred's request, Tim would only leave when his lungs were working perfectly - that still-unknown toxin inhaled in large quantities caused severe damage.

Tim was taking advantage of the rest time to do more simulations. The notebook was already repaired and running at full steam, with the nerd typing in the information as if the world depended on it - and, perhaps, it really did.

If it weren't for one of the monitoring devices to fire, Drake wouldn't even notice his brother fidgeting on the stretcher and starting to loosen some of the wires.

— Dami? — He got up — Damian, stay still! — asked, going to him.

— Wake me... — the youngest asked, practically begged, shaking his head from side to side — **Wake me!**

— You are already awake, gremlin! — Tim tried to contain him.

— Wakes me! — contorted more.

— Damian! — the eldest called him and, nervous as he was, decided that it would be a good idea to try to wake his brother with a slap on the face. He hit the youngest and, as expected, Damian finally opened his eyes.

However, the green eyes stared at nothing, lost. The only thing the little one said before going back to sleep was a plea:

— **... Wake me up from this nightmare, please...**

.

_**Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - morning of the third day:** _

.

— I didn't imagine anything, he was having a nightmare! — Tim insisted between a spoonful and another of the cereal with milk that he was eating for breakfast.

— It was an epileptic seizure, Master Tim, so some strands came off... — Alfred tried to sound like the voice of reason, but Bruce was interested in the other version of the facts:

— And how do you know it was a nightmare? Did he say anything?

— I was just asking to wake him up... — He lifted his shoulders.

— So it was a nightmare... — Jason said disinterestedly, looking away to some point — He keeps asking him to wake him up when he has bad dreams.

The rebel had only gone there, despite all the hurt with Bruce, because Tim had called everyone to tell them that Damian had woken up again. However, it only served to further worsen the climate between a rebellious father and son.

— And what did you do?

— ... I slapped him, but it didn't work — Timmy stared at the floor, embarrassed to have hit a child in that state.

— Damn... — Todd sighed, leaving. I didn't want to discount the anger I felt at the wrong person.

— Try to be a little more, er... kind in the next time, Master Tim — Alfred asked shortly before leaving the laboratory with some papers in hand, a foul excuse to go after Jason.

— I was nervous! — he tried to justify himself.

— Okay, just don't do it anymore — Bruce tried to smile to ease things, but he was too devastated to be able to pretend.

Timothy was about to redo the apology, even thinking about accepting that he could have imagined Damian saying those things when, in fact, he was just having an epileptic seizure - he would do anything not to make Bruce even worse. But before he could say a word, the monitoring machinery went off:

Damian was pulling all the threads attached to him, he didn't even seem to notice when he pulled the needle with the serum that was attached to his arm, tearing the skin in the process... he was beside himself. Unfortunately, Bruce only noticed that his son was completely insane when he got closer to the little one, who threw himself on him, taking advantage of the short distance that separated them - not for a hug, but in an attempt to attack.

— Damian! — The father screamed when he received a bite on his left arm. Despite the pain, he did not try to push his son away and much less made movements that could hurt him — Damian, calm down!

The child only let out a few grunts in response. He was behaving like an animal out of control and unconscious... he was thirsty for blood: a side effect of using the water from the Lazarus Pit - there was nothing to do but wait.

While Bruce endured the pain of that bite avoiding any sudden movement, Tim was stagnant, frozen, sitting on the stretcher about to panic - after all, Damian was already dangerous without that. Neither of them wanted to hurt the little one, mainly because the lack of control was clear - otherwise it would have been a direct attack and not something as bestial as bites.

There was no need to shout for help or anything to get the attention of others: Alfred and Jason entered the laboratory again - they had heard the alarm.

It was all very fast:

The rebellious son acted and immobilized the little demon against the ground - Damian has never lived up to his nickname. Bruce remained immobile, not knowing if it was best to let his son continue the irrational attacks or if he needed to be calmed ... The butler, already with a syringe with sedatives, injected the liquid into the little one before Master Wayne could manifest any protest in favor of that small and inconsequential creature.

When Damian finally fell asleep, Jason released him and took a few steps away. He was breathing, but he seemed to be choking... he was nervous. His little brat had become a bloodthirsty monster like him, the fault of the Lazarus Pit... Bruce's fault!

— **IT'S YOUR FAULT!** — He shouted at his father.

— Jason...

— If he does not return, be prepared! — He threatened, throwing to the ground everything he managed to achieve before leaving the laboratory.

.

_**Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - afternoon of the third day:** _

.

— At least it was just a bite... — Dick tried to remain optimistic about the whole situation.

— I refuse to be near him! — Tim insisted — If Bruce was not between us, he would have attacked me! I've been attacked by him before, I know how bad it is!

— It's not the same, it's like he doesn't even know what to do... — Bruce sighed.

— So... — Dick cleared his throat before continuing — Are you saying that it was Damian in amneria who woke up and it was not the usual Damian, who knows several ways to kill someone, is that it?

— ... Something like.

— The gremlin is dangerous anyway — Drake grunted.

— You don't have to be afraid of him, Timmy — Dick smiled and ruffled his brother's hair.

— I am not afraid! — The nerd removed the older man's hand and turned his face — I just ...!

Before he could continue, one of the devices started to make a different sound. Typically, they would beep several times and make similar sounds constantly, which made it quite easy to ignore them after a while - and made it even easier to identify when they changed the sound.

— ... The pressure dropped a little — Bruce analyzed a screen.

— This is bad? It is severe? Is he getting worse? — The eldest son didn't even wait for the answers to start getting desperate - mainly because he felt guilty about his brother's condition.

— Just call Alfred, some medication must have run out — the father replied calmly, analyzing the other monitors.

After Richard went looking for the butler - considerably calm - Tim sat on the stretcher and tried to analyze the monitors as well. Bruce, as much as he tried to appear calm, let his nervousness show through his frown.

— ... The pressure is dropping, the breathing has also decreased... — Drake said softly — You know he is not well.

— Dick is the one who doesn't need to know — replied.

Tim thought it best to shut up after that and just analyze the monitors, like his father. So they stayed, silent and just watching, this until Damian made a sign that he was finally waking up: he moved a hand.

— Son? — Bruce asked, showing the sudden animation in his voice.

Damian turned his face as if searching for where that voice was coming from. Careful, Bruce took his hand and waited for any other sign, any proof that his son would wake up quickly and well.

— **Sorry...** — Damian whispered a few seconds later, weak.

— You don't need to apologize for anything, son — He smiled.

— I... disobeyed again...

— No, everything is fine now.

— **Please...**

— Bruce, I think he is having a nightmare again — Tim, who was already standing next to his brother's stretcher, pointed to one of the monitors. It indicated that the heartbeat was out of step as the breath slowly fell.

— No, he is waking up! — Bruce tried to hold on to the hope he still had.

— I-I didn't want to... — Damian finally opened his eyes, but they stared at nothing — I didn't mean it...

— I know you didn't, I know... — He passed his hand over his son's face.

— Bruce, he's getting worse!

— **I just wanted... to stop...**

— Stop what, son? — Bruce shook the little boy's hand a little more, but there was no answer. He ran his hand over his son's face again, but Damian didn't react to anything — Son, stop what!? Damian!?

The devices connected to Damian started to trigger alarms.

The once quiet laboratory was echoing that mess of different sounds.

Before Drake could even think of an effective procedure for that situation, like a cardiac massage or any other tactic of the kind, Alfred entered that wing of the lab as if he were a gymnast squandering speed. Dick came in shortly afterwards, surprisingly keeping his cool in the face of the situation.

— Get away! — the butler ordered.

— My son, he...! — Bruce continued to hold one of Damian's hands, this until Richard forced him to walk away — No! — He tried to get rid of his eldest son, but he was still recovering from his catastrophic state — **No, he needs me!**

— B, please... — the boy asked.

Isolated from that turmoil, Tim watched everything and tried to absorb the situation: Damian was hallucinating in a nightmare; Bruce was not able to cope; Dick was calm; Alfred had a defibrillator... Alfred He had a defibrillator!

Tim hadn't even noticed the attempts at resuscitation, the placement of electrodes and anything other than the annoying noise from the devices and Bruce's total lack of composure.

— Stay away! — the elderly man sent, giving Damian the first electrical discharge. Then he started with cardiopulmonary resuscitation, fortunately having some positive signs.

.

_**Cave, central computer - night of the fifth day:** _

.

— He should be resting, you should be sleeping... — Selina grunted staring at one of the Batcomputer's screens. She was propped up on the chair where Tim Drake was sitting.

— And you should put your whiskers somewhere else! — the boy said sharply, exuding the total bad mood that two sleepless nights had done to him.

— I would love to, but I'm still "dead", remember?

— Could you pretend to be dead somewhere else, please? — He swiveled his chair so that he could face the “stepmother”, making visible the damage that a few liters of coffee can do to a young man.

— Just because you're asking nicely... meow! — replied mockingly, ruffled his hair and then walked away — I will help Alfred with dinner. If something happens...

She left without even finishing her sentence, after all, she didn't have to.

Tim knew Bruce's weakened state perfectly well and hindered him from being the usual Batman, but it wasn't exactly him that Selina was worried about - since Dick followed him like a shadow. She was talking about Damian... like he was going to wake up like this, so early.

The boy turned to the screens again. There was a view of the Batmobile; the city map with some marked points; and, the main one, showed the process of joining all the work of young Thimoty from the last few weeks - days and more days of hard work interpolating information and making simulations - still at 95%.

One of the lab's devices started making a different sound.

— Selina, if it's another one of your tests...! — He fell silent when a warning appeared on the screen interrupting the transmission of images: “Laboratory. Critical security breach. Power off”— ... Damn!

.

_**Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - night of the fifth day:** _

.

Tim held his cell phone like a flashlight to illuminate where he was going and try to find out what had happened. If he were an invader, he would be at a disadvantage: pajamas and slippers are not the best option to face an enemy.

— "Critical security alert", it seems! — began to grumble while searching the various shelves of chemical compounds and so many other priceless trinkets — ... It is more like a “critical alert for a snooping cat”!

The boy continued his search, irritated and cursing. He went on until he remembered a small detail contained in that laboratory called Damian.

Just thinking about his brother in that fragile state, connected to devices whose survival would last only a few minutes... he gave in to his emotions. He felt sweat breaking out on his forehead, his legs trembling, his hands cold: he was nervous, or rather, he was about to panic.

If something happened to youngest Wayne, it would be his fault. Not because he let an invader in there or because he decided to panic instead of asking for help - like the other times the little one woke up - but because if there was a culprit in all of that, it was him. At least, that's how Timothy Jackson Drake saw himself in that whole situation: the culprit for a thirteen-year-old boy being in a coma, after playing with an unstable prototype he left lying around.

Tim held his breath for a few seconds, mentally counted to ten and went to the wing where Damian was.

Hands, numb, held the cell phone to light the stretcher... empty. Empty!

They had stolen the Demon, kidnapped him, taken to ask for ransom or to use in some unhealthy sacrifice - like the al Ghul. No matter the reason, the only thing that mattered was that that child was not there, attached to the devices, nor attached to the stretcher.

Attached by contention strips - torn.

Connected to electrodes - thrown in a corner.

Even the probe and catheter were lying on the laboratory floor.

All that small destruction formed a path towards the door - the only exit from the medical wing, towards the laboratory.

— **...** **T** **hat woke up** — the boy whispered. He felt his stomach turn and the pressure dropped even more just to imagine the culprit of that "critical alert" — ... fuck — he sighed almost without a voice looking again at the stretcher, hoping that Damian would just appear there.

To make young Timmy's desperation even worse, he felt a warm breath near his right heel - dangerously close.

He only had time to close his eyes tightly, contain a scream of panic and remain immobile while being attacked by the little demon Wayne.

Now he finally understood what Bruce meant by "it's like he doesn't even know what to do"; that creature that woke up really didn’t know how to attack someone, acted like a wild animal that simply played with its prey before killing it: bites, scratches or any other bestial torture that small body allowed - aided by an almost superhuman force, also as a side effect.

— Damian! — tried to call attention to the little sanity that that thing could still have — Damian, I don't want to have to hurt you! — warned.

It only served to that thing to attack him with even more anger.

Accepting that he would have no alternative but to fight that thing, Tim took advantage of the darkness of the place to forget that his brother was just a sick child - if it weren't for the flashlight, it would be impossible to see anything.

First, he kicked him away. It only took a few seconds for the little demon to recover and go after its prey again - it seemed to see nothing, not to perceive the reality around it.

Tim punched and pinned him to the floor trying to make the same moves Jason had used before. It would be so much easier if he could just use brute force on that thing, instead of worrying about his little brother's fragile state...

... if he was acting like a monster, a sign that he was better.

... maybe he wouldn't even feel pain with a harder blow.

— Tim!? — Selina's voice came from afar, but it was getting closer: — What happened!? — The lights came on again.

— The gremlin is out of control!

Instead of asking more questions, the cat just ran to where the stepsons were. She ignored them both while searching for something on the benches - as hard as it was to despise the little grunts that growled as he tried to break free.

— Hold your brother with a little more strength... — she asked, bending down next to Damian, injecting the liquid from a syringe into him.

— **... This thing is not my brother** — the boy replied.

— Tim...

— . **.. He is not Damian.**

— It's just a side effect — she tried to sound optimistic.

— This thing is not a side effect! — He waited until Selina removed the syringe again to release the child — This thing doesn't even seem to know it's here!

The cat sighed and so they were both silent.

They just watched Damian squirm as he fought the sedative: he scratched the air and the floor, grunting as if they were asking for help. It lasted just over a minute, which seemed like hours.

— Christ... — Alfred murmured going to them — what happened here!?

— It looks like someone's been feeding the gremlin after midnight — Drake replied.

.

_**Cave - morning of the seventh day:** _

.

Alfred, a tireless butler and caregiver for everyone, needed a vacation.

It wasn't home management, let alone helping Batman fight crime that was tiring him... it was the guilt that was wearing him out. He felt guilty about several of the tragedies that plagued the family - as did everyone, but to a greater extent.

He walked through the cave towards the laboratory with slow, very slow steps. He could no longer bear to see that child unconscious, fragile, without showing any sign of improvement...

.

_**Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - morning of the seventh day:** _

.

First Alfred took all the material he would need to take care of Damian, looked at the monitoring reports and only then did he dedicate himself to taking care of that child. He did this for a week, it had already become part of the routine.

However, that morning, the routine was broken.

As soon as the butler entered that wing, the first thing he noticed was Damian's beautiful green eyes open, shining as always, staring around with curiosity. When the little boy made eye contact with him, he seemed to be even more curious and then asked:

— ... Where am I, Mr. Pennyworth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian being in a coma because of the “Synthetic Lazarus Pit” is something I got out of my head. I needed a bad enough side effect, after all, it would be too easy for Batman to be fighting enemies, getting hurt all over and the next day being brand new.  
> Remembering that the state of coma is different from a vegetative state. In a coma, the person does not react to anything and needs equipment to supply basic functions such as breathing, food, etc. It can improve and go to the vegetative state, when an "improvement" occurs (since the person may manifest some automatic, involuntary movements, reflexes...) or it can simply wake up (happens when the reason for the coma is finally treated).  
> Let's combine the following clause here: in the beginning, Damian was in a coma for at least two months before getting a little better and finally waking up. Now, he was only unconscious for a week (first unconscious, then in a coma and then just unconscious again).  
> I know this explanation may sound strange, but I thought it would be interesting to put it so that everyone understands why on a certain day he needed devices (after the third, when he had a cardiopulmonary arrest) and on the next he no longer needed it.  
> I am not from the health area, if I have any wrong information, I accept help! :D  
> Here is an explanatory text about patients in the ICU (Damian state), whoever wants to read just to better understand all the work that poor Alfred needed to do alone:  
> http://www.socati.org.br/index.php/enfermagem/o-paciente-na-uti  
> Note to Note: “limbo” can also mean uncertainty.


	46. Remorse

Bruce didn't even wait for the limo to be parked properly to get out of it and leave the important folder, Timothy, or anything else behind. He almost put the mansion doors down so he could get in - he didn't want to waste time using the doorknob. He hurried up the stairs, wasting the good shape he had achieved with the few days of rest. He almost ran into the butler on the way to the youngest son's room.

— Alfred, I **need** to see my son! — was justified even before any explanation for that behavior was required.

— Certainly, Master Bruce, but...

That little conjunction of restraining ideas was a bucket of cold water for Wayne. The vigor left him and left only the same desolate features that he had in the last few days - whenever he received a refusal for any possible improvement from Damian.

— ... "But"?

— But he is taking a nap... — The butler lifted his shoulders — Don't you dare wake that child up, you don't know what you're going to be dealing with! — said with a humorous tone, even managing to draw a sigh of relief from Bruce.

— Bruce!? — Tim called him from the top of the stairs, held his father's jacket, briefcases and still tried to balance the open notebook in his other hand — Alfred!?

— I'm going, Master Tim! — the eldest responded equally good-naturedly while leaving Wayne alone to decide whether or not to enter his son's room.

He entered.

He was careful enough to open the door gently and quietly.

He managed to contain a murmur or another while looking at that room full of drawn papers scattered on the floor; rumpled clothes coming out of the closet - with Ace using some as a bed -; dropped things - probably by Alfred, since the little cat licked one of its paws on the shelf -; TV on any drawing being broadcast; Titus sleeping on the bed, belly up, taking up almost as much space as the other two sleepers:

Selina was with Damian practically in her lap, with one arm around him and the other being held by the boy. Little Wayne seemed to have slept in the middle of a masterpiece: a design on his mother's forearm as if it were a tattoo.

— Bruce, Alfred said...

The boy couldn't even finish the sentence before he fell silent when he saw the whole scene. Unlike Bruce, who was content to just admire, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and started taking several pictures.

— Tim — the father called him in such a serious tone that he made him put his cell phone in the pocket again and pretend he did nothing. And then he continued: — I want you to keep all the photos after me.

— Yes sir — He smiled.

— I want it too... — Selina said quietly, keeping her eyes closed, completing shortly afterwards: — Yes, I am awake.

— And how is our son? — Bruce asked in a mild tone, even affectionate, while he sat on the edge of the bed to be close to them.

— From the state of the room, I think it was the “hungry gremlin” version that woke up... — Tim grunted looking around and getting closer too.

— ... Damian is fine. It is the same adorable child from a few days ago, the only problem it’s... — She stopped as soon as the little one moved a little. He only dared to say something when he was absolutely sure that he was sleeping — ... It's just that he doesn't keep quiet.

— Are you saying that it was my son who did all this? — Bruce frowned, unable to imagine even him rising from the bed alone for the next few days.

— And in a few minutes...

— ... How? — Drake asked trying to understand.

— At the time of the bath he wanted to choose a pajama, then he wanted to draw, then he wanted to find Titus's ball, then he wanted to draw again — she yawned — Ah, they had the questions too, several questions...

— Questions about what?

— Several things. In fact, we met at a charity dinner.

— ... Did he ask about me? About that toy bird? — Tim stared at the floor, blaming himself for everything that happened.

— He asked a lot about...

Before Selina managed to finish, Dick came into the room almost putting the door down - and that was because Bruce left it ajar. The boy was so flustered that he slipped on one of the leaves lying on the floor.

— How is he!?

— Dick! — Bruce tried to call him back to himself, but was completely ignored.

— He is fine!? Did he really wake up!? — Asked while climbing on the bed, expelling Titus and taking Damian from Selina's arms. He checked the temperature, rocked the younger brother back and forth and even had the courage to pick him up and take a few steps towards the door, justifying himself with: — He should be being monitored in the laboratory!

— No, he is perfectly...! — the cat tried to explain, but Bruce interrupted:

— Dick, put your brother where he was and let him sleep!

— But B...!

— Now!

— He's just taking a nap, Dick... — Tim rolled his eyes at the whole drama of the older brother — Apparently, it is better to leave the gremlin asleep.

— I'm not a gremlin at all! — Damian grunted slyly while passing a hand over his eyes, finally awake. He rested his face on his brother's shoulder and waited for some explanation for why he woke up with Dick holding him.

— ... Well, guys, I would love to stay here with you... — Selina got up from the bed — ... but Alfred may need help. Take good care of my baby! — Smiled, gave her son a kiss on the forehead and left soon after, leaving the three horsemen to take care of the taken child - apparently tired.

Tim stared at the floor, the walls, anything but Damian;

Bruce was content to watch his son from afar, he didn't want to demand him close now - not when the last memory of them together that little one had was probably his father fighting with him;

Dick, the most euphoric of all, hugged his brother and squeezed like a plush;

— I made several drawings today! — Little D said proud of yourself, he didn't even want to leave his brother.

— Really!? — Richard asked laughing, throwing himself on the bed with Damian once again. By this time, Titus had already joined Ace and laid on the clothes lying on the floor.

— Yep! I drew all day, I even drew on my mom's arm! — Damian seemed to be thoughtful soon after, looking at his brothers and father. It was as if he wanted to understand the three of them being with him at the same time, until he finally asked: — ... Did something bad happen?

The three denied it instantly, but it was only Bruce who explored that question a little further:

— Why do you think something bad happened, son?

— They all came to stay with me at the same time...

— We came because you woke up, Dami — Dick smiled.

— Ah... — the little boy looked at his brother a little more seriously, then looked away. She moved away from him and curled up between the pillows where she had been sleeping before.

— What is it, little D? — Grayson asked, getting close enough to touch his hair, messing up affectionately - the strands were already at nose level, needed to be cut.

— ... Sorry for entering your room? — The child, without the courage to face them, cringed and hid his face before continuing: — I also entered yours, father...

The little boy was still crestfallen, seeing that sudden visit as a demand for explanations for "bad behavior". He had no idea that a week had passed.

— Dami...

— Son, you don't need to apologize... — Bruce commented getting closer to him. He made a point of pulling him into a tight hug - before Dick "stole" him again.

In response to the unexpected show of affection, the little boy snuggled into his embrace and hid his face in his father. It stayed like that for just a few seconds, just long enough to remember the other person who was also there:

— Ah, Timothy... — The little one stared at his brother while he was still protected in the embrace.

— You don't need to apologize for anything, Damian.

— But if I had waited...

— No, Dami... — Tim interrupted him — If I hadn't left that thing near you, everything would have been fine. I'm sorry.

— But...

— I'll try to be more careful with you now, gremlin — Tim gave a sad smile to his brother and then walked away. He started to collect the drawings lying on the floor and what was out of place - he didn't have the courage to stay close to Damian yet, much less to look him in the eye.

— I'm sorry too, kiddo... — Dick caught his attention for you — If I hadn't left and left you alone...

— You had a date with your girlfriend, didn't you? — Damian smiled — My mom told me! — He let out a lovely little laugh — Do I know her?

— You cannot imagine how much — He sighed.

— ... And why didn't she come to see me?

— Because you need to rest a lot before receiving visitors — Bruce answered for his eldest son — That is why no friend of yours has come to see you **yet...** — He hugged the little one a little more. If he could, he would put Damian away from everything and everyone just to make sure that nothing bad was going to happen.

— Dad...

— No.

— But I haven't said anything yet...! — Damian looked at him in surprise.

— You don't need to apologize to me.

— But dad...!

— I already said no, Damian — Bruce interrupted him in a slightly more serious tone. When the little boy finally settled down in his embrace again, he continued: — I was the bad father fighting with you for nothing... I just …

— You don't know how to deal with children? — Dick tried to complete.

— Are you authoritarian? — Tim also offered help.

Grayson snapped a finger, as if coming up with the perfect answer:

— Inconsequential!

— ... I just end up getting nervous for not knowing how to act with you, son — Bruce preferred to ignore the previous comments — Before it was easier because I treated you as I treat your brothers. But it was wrong, you are too young to be treated like an adult... — He held his son even tighter. If it wasn't a small grunt from Damian, maybe he would continue to squeeze that boy completely forgetting the strength he had ... — Sorry... I... I don't usually hug much and...

— My mom squeezed me a lot of times today! — The little one smiled, looking at his father with green eyes shining like never before.

— And what did you do today?

— Drawings! — He replied right away — I finished a whole block of sheets! I also played with them! — pointed to the exhausted dogs, lying on the floor — Ah, I also learned to do somersaults just like my mom, she taught me!

— Somersaults...? — Bruce smiled, but in fact he was about to leave his son with his brothers and go and demand explanations about that directly to the catwalk. How dare she teach something so dangerous to a child!?

— Yep, want to see!?

— Not now, son... — The father sighed and broke the hug, pushing Damian gently so that he lay down on the bed again — Must be tired.

— I already rested! — the little one smiled and sat down again — Dick, do you want to go in the garden with me?

— Er, Dami... — he tried to talk it over — How did you use an entire block of sheets?

— Drawing...

— I know, kiddo, but there are twenty sheets... How did you make twenty drawings?

— With coal... — He showed the crumbs scattered on the bed.

— Actually there are thirty sheets — Tim commented while placing all the drawings on the table, attaching the sheets against each other and aligning them by the edges — Thirty with a 300g/m², whatever that is.

— These are watercolor sheets and... — The little one fell silent when he saw what his brother was doing — And... I will paint later, but...

— But what, Dami? — Dick asked worried, wondering the sudden sadness of the youngest.

— Now it is no longer possible... — He already had teary eyes.

— Why not, son?

— Tim ruined everything by putting it together — Damian muttered under his breath, sad.

— ... I just fixed them! — Drake tried to defend himself, but it was enough to separate the sheets again to see the blurred drawings and with some parts erased — Dami... I swear I didn't know that...!

— No... — the little one interrupted him as he finally got out of bed — It wasn't because he wanted to... right? — He smiled, clearly trying not to cry for the lost drawings.

— Son, you can draw more later. It is better to rest now.

— Yes, Dami! We can spend the whole day drawing and...! — Before Richard could finish the list of things he was willing to do to keep his little brother distracted, Damian interrupted him by giving some excuse before leaving the room:

— I'm going to see if Mr. Pennyworth wants help!

As much as he was trying to look good, it was obvious how sad he had become. Bruce sighed and got up to go after his son - he didn't want him coming down the stairs alone yet.

Dick and Timothy remained silent. One felt extremely guilty and the other was shocked:

— Did you see, Timbo? He ran away! He managed to run without even holding anything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor you, Timothy J. Drake, can be a terrible brother even when he tries to do the right thing! I'm glad Damian can now run.  
> The charcoal is a great material for sketching canvases and things that take ink because it is very easy to erase (try to take a piece of the barbecue charcoal and do something on a sheet of paper, it will disappear if you run your finger). For it to be fixed on the paper, it is necessary to use some fixative product (type lacquer, shellac...).  
> Weight of sheets is the weight in grams (g) of the leaf per square meter (m²). The heavier the weight, the thicker the paper. Depending on the material, the most suitable are sheets of heavier weight, mainly for the use of wet techniques (such as watercolor, which uses water to dilute the color pigments).


	47. Yellow

It was after midnight.

Batman was supposed to be on the streets and, contradictorily, Bruce was in his son's room. He would play the role of night watchman, but first he wanted to put Damian to bed - a small act that would have a big impact on their relationship, according to Alfred.

Damian, by the way, had spent the whole afternoon drawing - he remade the drawings that his brother had damaged and was now painting them.

— Just one more to go... — he tried to negotiate using that sweet and irresistible eyes he had.

— Son... — Bruce gently ran his hand through his hair — It's too late.

— But it is the last!

— Damian, look at you... — He held his face with his hands, causing the little boy's attention to be directed to him — Your eyes are red with sleep.

— I am not sleepy...

— Yes, you are — he sighed, releasing him — And the more you fight against sleep, the longer it will take to finish the drawings. You better go rest and finish them tomorrow morning.

— **What if I don't wake up?** It will be missing one...

Damian saw that situation as something really important, he would not forgive himself if he did not finish that small task he had imposed on himself... he needed to get a taste of the job done - no matter how much he did not understand the **need** to set goals and try fulfill them at all costs.

Bruce, after hearing those words, could not think of any way to continue the conversation. He had no idea what might be going through his son's head to make him think he wouldn't wake up - it could just be an expression, a little emotional blackmail... or Damian was really thinking he wouldn't wake up the next day.

— It is past midnight, gremlin... — Tim commented entering the room with a coffee mug in hand.

— I am not a gremlin... — the little one replied softly. He had forgiven his brother for the damaged drawings, but he was almost hopeless of winning at least some of his affection - mainly because of that nickname.

— Wouldn't you put him to sleep? — Without answers, the boy got closer to Bruce and asked again: — Bruce, shouldn't he be in bed?

— Ah... — Awakened from the thoughts, the father sighed, squeezed his temple and finally answered: — ... is finishing a drawing.

Timothy smiled and approached his brother, he was curious to the point of leaving the coffee aside. Earlier, when he collected the drawings, some were as sharp as a black and white photograph - such as those depicting Titus, Ace, the cat Alfred, objects... - but others were just some meaningless, probably unfinished spots.

He ignored the youngest of the house, after all, Damian was too focused to notice his proximity. Tim preferred to analyze the paintings: perfect, sharp, as if they were printed photos instead of drawings made by a child... however, those that were meaningless spots, continued like this: meaningless spots, black spots on completely yellow leaves - several .

— I finished! — the little one announced, smiling. He was **proud of himself** \- something he hadn't felt in a long time.

— And what exactly did you draw? — Drake used a tone a little harsher than normal. It didn't hurt, he just couldn't understand why another copy of yellow paper with a stain on it - it didn't make any sense.

— I drew this... — Damian held the sheet carefully due to the fresh ink and showed it to his brother.

— I know, grem... Dami. I know you drew this, but I want to know what it is.

— ... It's an explosion.

— No matter what it is — Bruce interrupted their conversation — Son, you better go to sleep. Tomorrow you talk about the drawings...

— Bruce... — Tim sighed, incredulous — Your son just said he drew an explosion and you send him to sleep? — He looked at his brother — Damian, where did you get that an explosion is just a yellow thing with a stain in the middle?

— From my nightmare... — The little one tried to hide the clear **disappointment** he felt now. No matter what he did, he might never be good enough for his younger brother - and his father.

— Damian, you better go to bed before...

— And how was that nightmare? — Tim interrupted Bruce. He was curious, now not just for the strange drawings, but because he remembered Damian perfectly begging to be woken from a nightmare.

— I don't remember well... — Damian sighed. He wanted to remember, but the little he remembered he drew - he wanted to recognize that black spot, but no matter how many copies he made, he couldn't.

— Enough of this subject, Damian.

— But I wanted...!

— No — Bruce interrupted him — You will sleep and forget about this nightmare, drawings of explosions or anything like that!

— But...!

— **I** **said no!**

— Bruce! — Tim got between the two — Stay calm, he's just talking about a silly dream! — He looked at his little brother who, at that point, already had teary eyes — Speak, Dami... what do you remember about the nightmare?

— Th-here was a lot of noi-ise... — He took a deep breath trying to stop the crying before continuing — And I was in a tight place, I cou-uld only go forwa-ard ... — He looked at his father, at the look of disappointment he had — ... When I managed to le-eave... — He took a deep breath again, now facing the floor — ... And I looke-ed back, it was all yellow... It was ora-ange and red, but it was ver-ry yellow... — The tears they were already oozing — And something was behi-ind me, but I don't know what it i-is! — It collapsed. Remembering that was scary, in addition to making it uncomfortable for the other two to see it just as a “stupid dream” — I reme-ember, but I don't know what it is! That's why I dre-ew it, because when I get back to normal, I'll be able to find out!

— Okay, Dami... — Tim said in the nicest tone he could, hugging the youngest and touching his hair — It's over... — He stared at his father, hoped Bruce would do something to calm the boy, but he he simply left the room and left the two alone, murmuring before leaving:

— I'm sorry.

— It was the same thing several times! — Damian looked at him.

— It's just a silly dream... — He smiled.

The little one took a few minutes, until he was able to stop crying and get away from his brother's embrace. He dragged his feet to the bed and threw himself between the blankets and pillows, hid himself in the middle of them.

— Do you want me to stay here a little longer?

— ... You don't have to — the little boy answered almost in a whisper, trying hard not to start crying again.

— Ok... — Timothy didn't **need** to stay there, but he did. He sat on the edge of the bed, silent.

When he noticed that his brother intended to stay there a little longer, the little one approached him, with slow movements like those of a frightened cat. With all the space that bed had for them, Tim preferred to stay just on the edge and Damian huddled beside him.

— When you sleep, I will need to leave — the older one warned.

— Oka-ay... — Damian whispered quietly, he was still sniffling.

And so it was done.

Tim fiddled with his brother's hair until the little one finally gave in to tiredness. Then, instead of staying in the room or going to work on something, the boy preferred to look for Bruce.

He met him in the cave, he was just putting on his uniform to go out on patrol - still looked disappointed.

— Why did you leave that way? I had to calm the gremlin alone... — With the lack of answers, he continued: — It doesn't have to be like this, B. It's normal, any child has nightmares sometimes — Again receiving silence, he continued the one-sided conversation: — Were you disappointed that he didn't recognize Batman in that spot? His memory must be returning little by little, soon he will remember!

— I am not disappointed with him... — the voice bordered a dry and cold desert — ... I am disappointed with me.

— Why?

— Because I failed Damian even in his dreams — He stared at the boy.

— It was just a nightmare... — Tim sighed — And as much as a black spot on the yellow background is synonymous with Batman, maybe it was something else. He may be reliving some memory while he sleeps...

— Reliving memories... — Batman stared at the floor in silence.

Damian's memories could be summed up in a relentless struggle to please someone. First to grandfather, then to mother, then to father.

Each day was just another day of struggle, just a struggle, because he never received recognition for anything. Glory was saved only when he reached perfection - unattainable - or when he finally managed to be someone's pride.

As much as he tried, Batman, Bruce, or just Damian's father couldn't remember a moment he spent with his son just being a father. Without pressure, without imposing rules, without demanding something…

There were no good, relaxed memories, not even of his birthdays...

On the last, on the thirteenth birthday, he was busy with yet another of those Justice League meetings. Damian celebrated his birthday only with Alfred, just as he celebrated his, with the difference that Bruce was still alive - he just had priorities before his son, as always.

— ... These memories for a normal child are nightmares — he murmured — I made my son live in a nightmare... — he verified.

— If it's any consolation: you didn't do it alone, his mother helped a lot...

— ... He is afraid of me.

— Bruce, that's not it... he loves you.

— ... It just makes everything even more painful... — He stared at Tim — ... If he hated me like Jason, shouted all the wrong things I did... — He shook his head from side to side — ... He doesn't, he just distorts and thinks he's wrong.

— Each one has a different way of dealing with this type of thing — As much as he tried to alleviate the situation, Timothy knew that those words entered in one ear and left in the other.

— I always put something ahead of him, ahead of you... — Sighed — What kind of father does that? — He stared at the ground once more.

— It is Batman who puts priorities ahead, I know Bruce thinks differently.

— Batman is also your father, I am... — He pressed his temple — And I always make mistakes.

— B... — the youngest approached, holding him by one arm — Are you feeling well? Is the pressure again?

— I always leave my children waiting for me in the face of death and I arrive too late! — he said between his teeth. He felt **contempt** for himself.

— Alfred! — the boy called, supporting the vigilante who continued to babble accusations against himself — Alfred, we have a problem!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the first issue of New Titans (Rebirth), Damian had to celebrate his 13th birthday "alone" because his father received an important call from the Justice League. Apparently, Damian is more than used to not being a priority for his father...  
> Fortunately, Alfred stayed there with him and even made a strawberry and vanilla cake, which was praised by the boy.  
> The gift from his grandfather, Ra’s, was a beautiful threat entitled to a dead Robin… poor baby.


	48. Extra

Bruce was resting in the medical wing of the laboratory. Alfred, already tired of warning about the dangers that stress and overload could cause to his heart - still fragile -, preferred to make sure that he would rest and leave him in the care of two poor souls:

— Do you want me to talk to him about what we have agreed? — Dick asked almost in a whisper, trying to be as discreet as possible.

— No, I deal with him better — Selina answered equally low.

— If you need help... — He smiled and left the lab, was ready to help her as a stepson or anyone in Gotham as a Nightwing.

She followed him with her eyes, then looked at Bruce - she knew he was awake - and then finally started the conversation:

— You're an idiot...

— I am.

— That I love like an idiot...

— I love you too, cat.

— I know... — She was serious — And I also know that there are things in front of me.

— What...?

— Justice, Gotham, Batman, that silly oath you took when you were a child... — She sighed — Bruce, however stupid I think is that... — She paused before continuing, even raising her hands in self defense — Idiot sometimes, because I know all the meaning! The meaning is good, even if you take a risk for that... — He smiled and took one of his hands carefully — ... I understand. Because I love you, stupid bat.

— I love you too, stupid cat — He ended up smiling.

— And who wouldn't love?

He nodded, as if it were a silent scolding of a child. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed and commented, as if he wants nothing:

— If you want, you can go straight to the point...

— Great! — She took a deep breath and held her boyfriend's hand with a little more strength before continuing: — Your son doesn't know that you love him. _**Maybe**_ Damian even suspected it before, but now...

— I already said that I didn't mean it.

— It doesn't matter, Bruce. Do you know why it doesn't matter? Because even without doing harm, you always do the same thing: you _**don't say**_ what you feel, you _**don't know**_ how to deal with what you feel and you _**don't want**_ to feel anything, because _**you're afraid of losing.**_

— Where did you get that from?

— Alfred and I talked a lot lately — She finally left her boyfriend and got up — Dick, Barbara, Tim... Jason.

— ... Did you talk to Jason about me? — Bruce couldn't hide his silly smile.

— About how childish you are! — She crossed her arms — Bruce, what does it cost to talk to your son!? If you don't explain how you feel, Damian will continue to think you are bothered about him!

— I do not...!

— He doesn't know that _**you were to blame!**_

— ... Am I to blame?

— YES!

— ... Finally someone had the courage to...

— To speak what you so wanted to hear! — Selina interrupted him — You were to blame for Damian's death the first time, what happened to him before and even the chandelier fell on him! — She was irritated — And you know what? You are also to blame for Jason's death! Guilty for what happened to Tim, Dick, Alfred, anyone!

— But...

— You are to blame for all the wrong things about Gotham, bat! Blame even for there being bad people like me! You wouldn't need help breaking your spine because you have the weight of the world on your back!

— Enough, Selina!

The two were silent, facing each other.

She was irritated, restless, walking around waiting for the gears to turn. He, the greatest detective in the world, tried hard to sit on the stretcher staring at her and waiting for some other tip - she wouldn't start an argument for anything.

— It doesn't make sense... — Bruce murmured after a few minutes — You never blamed me for anything, what was all that about?

She smiled, let her arms fall to her sides and breathed a sigh of relief. She approached the bat, hugged him tightly and faced him - now sweetly:

— This is a desperate attempt to make you understand that nobody blames you for anything... — She kissed him on the forehead — You are the only one who blames himself.

— It still doesn't make sense.

— Do... — Carefully, she took his hand — Do it because you know I never blame you.

— And? — He intertwined his fingers with hers.

— And you're getting this way because you _**don't know**_ if Damian blames you or not...

— ... Maybe it is that.

— Bat, we know that it was his fault.

— _**Impossible**_... — He shook her hand instinctively — He is a child! He's just scared, not blaming himself!

— Bruce, we know it _**was his fault**_! — She repeated louder — Him, not yours! He chose to go alone, he chose the most difficult way, he made mistakes and he is paying! The fault of making him cry, this is yours, but the fault for everything that happened is not. He's having nightmares as a result of what he did...

— ... He is just a child and... and I...

— He is a child _**now**_ , bat... — Selina said quietly, forcing her boyfriend to lie down on the stretcher once again — And you have a chance to be his father in a different way. Blaming yourself is only hurting you... — She smiled, carefully stroking his face with his free hand — Forget all that guilt, before you make my son worse... please.

— Ours, our son.

— Are you going to talk to him?

— I will... — He carefully held her hand, interlacing his fingers again.

— Promise you won't make him cry?

— ... Promise.

— Finally! — She let some laughs escape.

— Is everything okay here? — Dick looked at them from the door, curious — Did you get it?

— Yes! — Selina announced euphorically, filling her boyfriend with kisses on the cheek.

— I still do not believe that you are doing a plot behind my back... — Despite trying to sound serious, Bruce could not hide his silly smile.

— Sometimes it is necessary, B — The boy smiled — And my apartment is really empty, there is no problem if they... — When he noticed Selina's nervous look, Dick stopped talking and cleared his throat, looking away somewhere — Er...

— Your apartment...? — Bruce sat down again. He was serious, he wanted a straightforward explanation this time.

— ... It's the plan if you continue like this — Dick murmured under his breath, leaving again.

— Bruce, you are not doing well — Selina forced you to lie down — We are afraid that all this guilt could make you worse and...

— Where does the apartment get into this? — he interrupted her.

— ... Maybe it would be better for Damian to get away from you a little, for both their sakes.

— Selina! — Bruce grunted as if he had been stabbed in the back. With effort and leaning on what he saw ahead, this time he got up from the stretcher and walked away from it — You want to take my son from me! — accused.

— We want the best for you! — She defended herself — Bat, you can't deal with him!

— I am dealing perfectly with the situation!

— You are killing yourself!

— He is _**my son**_! **My**! He's not yours! You have no right to take him! — Was already at the door, ready to go out and stand guard in Damian's room to ensure that he would remain there.

— Bat... — Selina practically called him in a whisper. She approached slowly - I had no intention of stopping him, but he still stood in the same place, motionless — I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, okay? — Sighed — Damian needs a quiet place and you need less stress. Dick and I will only do something if things continue as they are...

— Why his apartment? Why don't you stay here and I leave?

— Because his apartment is empty, nobody would recognize me in Blüdhaven, especially with a child — She rested her head on her boyfriend's shoulder — And you don't know how to live without this place...

— Selina...

— I'm about to go crazy inside, bat — She stared at him, letting sadness and anxiety finally appear — I need to go out, do something different, feel alive again... — She hugged him a little more — Caring our son would distract me...

— Take care of him here, with me — Bruce asked, hugging her affectionately.

— ... Only if you stop pretending that you are handling the situation well.

— I'm dealing well...

— As well as I ...

The two looked at each other and let a low, complicit laugh escape. Both, as parents, were doing the best they could - no matter how dysfunctional and self-destructive they were doing.

They remained embraced for just under a minute, in silence, until the watchman commented on something he had been thinking for days:

— I didn't know that... — He searched for the words he could use — that you really liked taking care of Damian. I thought you just felt obligated by the misunderstanding of being his "mother"…

— I love being his mother, maybe not as much as Dick... — He laughed, which soon contained, after all, the boy was behind the door waiting for their reconciliation, probably listening to the conversation — ... But I love that jealous brat.

— And when he returns to normal? How do you think he will... react?

— Good! — She smiled — He is afraid that I will steal your attention or that... — she looked away — ... that our children will steal his place, so...

— ... Our children? — He raised an eyebrow.

— So... — Already recovered from the momentary shyness and ready to change the direction of the conversations, Selina raised an eyebrow and put her hands on his shoulders, purring slowly as she brought him close to her: — You should be on the stretcher, Mister Wayne... meow.

— Would you accompany me there, Miss Kyle?

— Of course! — She smiled and kissed him before he could say anything else.

And in the middle of the warm kiss, the two walked towards the stretcher. The effort could be detrimental to the night watchman in that state, but the two did not care about this little detail at that moment: the only state that the two could be described was that of euphoria.

When they had to separate in search of air, both were already on the stretcher. He was lying there, enjoying the beauty of the cat and she, greedy, was starting to get irritated by the difficulty in opening her partner's uniform - if she were clawed, that outfit would have already been torn.

However, before she managed to get anything out of him beyond the hood, both were stopped:

— Quick, this way! — Dick asked while he opened the door of that place, anxious, only noticing the heated couple after he had already entered — What do you... never mind, we don't have time!

— What...? — Selina was not even able to finish the question before being "gently" kicked out of the stretcher by her boyfriend - who was now getting up — Hey!

— Damian is feeling bad? Tim? What happened!?

Bruce bombarded Nightwing with questions, but before the boy answered, Batgirl and the Red Hood walked through the door - he leaned on it as much as he could, but was almost being dragged by the girl as he babbled meaningless murmurs.

— Quick, put him down! — Dick ordered while typing commands on one of the monitors of that place.

— It is easy to give the orders... — Barbara grunted while, at great cost, trying to make Jason release her — I need help here, he grabbed my hair!

— I...! — Bruce didn't even finish the sentence, Selina interrupted him and got in front of him.

— I help! — She approached the girl. He tried to understand why Jason clung to her even though he looked so weak, but he only asked questions when the boy was already lying on the stretcher - now holding one of Barbara's hands — ... Happy Gas?

— Fear Gas... — the redhead replied while finally allowing herself to relax — The composition is very altered, the antidotes did not work and... B? B, where are you going!? — She stared at the watchman who, taking advantage of everyone's distraction, had even put Batman's hood on again — You will not solve anything now!

— Bat! — Selina scolded him.

— They would not infect just one person — He approached Jason carefully so that no sudden movement would scare him, verifying that it was necessary to call Alfred to take care of him before leaving — I need to find the Scarecrow before...!

Before Batman could finish, Jason managed to do what the two women in the room couldn't do: stop Batman, interrupt his actions. He held the tip of the Knight's cloak, finally babbling words that had a connection:

— **Bruce, stay...** — he said in a low whisper, needing to take a few deep breaths before continuing the request: — Stay here... I... I'm scared.

— Jason... — Batman stared at the door, sighed and left justice for later — I am here, son... — he said quietly, carefully holding Jason's hands and trying to make him release the cloak.

— Bruce, don't leave me alone! — The voice was already broken, making the words come out scratched from the throat. He stared at the ceiling, or rather, he stared at some hallucination while fidgeting on the stretcher — Dad! Dad, I don't want to be alone again!

— I will never leave you alone, son...

Despite all the melancholy surrounding that scenario, with Jason dejected by the worst fears he had, everyone faced the scene with tenderness. Bruce even smiled, a smile with a sad look, because at least this time he had arrived in time to take care of the rebel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blüdhaven is a city in New Jersey, about 30 minutes away from Gotham.  
> It was a whaling city, became an industrial center and then declined because of the crisis. Currently, when it is not destroyed, it is a dangerous city with a high crime rate. Dick Grayson lived there for a long time, serving as a police officer - and polishing the very image of Nightwing, stepping out of Batman's shadow and finally becoming the protector of another city.  
> Blüdhaven has been the background in several sagas, series and even games in the DC universe. And, as always, it has been altered on almost every occasion, repeating only the elements of high crime (including mobsters, corrupt police, radioactive monsters and Darkside supporters) and, almost always, becoming an uninhabitable place after some major event magnitude (like a nuclear explosion).  
> Let's agree that here, in this fanfic, Blüdhaven really has a high crime rate, but that it remains “firm and strong” on the map!  
> Asa Nocturna left the city in the care of other heroes in order to dedicate himself to his little brother, staying away even from his career as a police investigator (points that will be discussed later).  
> Although it seems like a bad idea, Selina and Damian staying in Blüdhaven would allow Nightwing to return to operating in the city, in addition to making Batman's job a lot easier. Besides, Selina would have an even stronger reason to keep quiet inside the house by pretending to be dead: protecting Damian all the time - besides, of course, protecting herself (let's say that the “nobody would recognize me in Bludhaven” part was a little lie).


	49. Scar

Jason woke up with his head still throbbing and his vision blurred.

He took a deep breath, mentally counted to three and sat down on the stretcher at once. As he gathered the strength to get up, he tried to remember what had happened in the last few hours - he just remembered blowing up one of the sheds where they were storing illegal substances.

— Damn... — he moaned softly — Fuck, fuck, fuck... — he cursed as closed his eyes tightly and opened it again. He saw everything blurry, with indistinguishable shapes that made him nervous.

— I'm here, son... here... — Bruce murmured softly and in his sleep. He had slept sitting next to Jason's stretcher, probably holding one of the rebel's hands until he woke up - Selina was beside him, hugging the night watchman and giving himself to the same heavy sleep.

— What... the fuck... — The boy took a deep breath, felt a sickness in his stomach just to imagine that Bruce - or Batman, since he couldn't determine the presence of the hood - being there with him was more of a hallucination — **Calm, Jason.** Keep your fucking calm — he ordered himself, lying on the stretcher again.

To lie down and relax was an impossible idea to materialize, since his mind was overflowing with signs of **"imminent risk"**. Even looking at the ceiling made him nervous: he felt that at any moment a gigantic stalactite could come off and fall on him; the cave could collapse due to poorly controlled infiltration and bury it down there...

— Calm the fuck! — declared as he got up again, now getting off the stretcher and walking with hurried steps out of the laboratory.

Alfred did not notice that the boy had already awakened: he was busy serving as a support for Batgirl, Red Robin and Nightwing. More warehouses had been discovered throughout the city where those chemical compounds were being kept.

Jason was too nervous to look for the butler, he just went upstairs and went to hide in the mansion. He felt that the dinosaur could activate and attack it; that the giant coin could slip from the base and roll towards it; that weapons could fire on their own; that the gigantic Joker’s card would release Happy Gas... He felt that the previous alternatives could happen simultaneously as well.

However, going to the mansion was not a good idea starting with the chandelier: he was afraid that the large decorative object would fall on top of him. The images of that rainy day, when he arrived at what he still called "home sweet home" terrified him: he found Damian under twisted steel and shards of crystals... his body torn, divided, bloody, dead, with eyes frozen in fear. Damian was too small to have died like that... he didn't want to have the same end!

When he finally got to the stairs, Todd was already breathing fast and all the other symptoms of an impending **panic attack**. He crawled up the steps, afraid he was going to trip and fall. He kept crawling until he found the first door unlocked and managed to get in, get under some furniture and stay there, huddled.

He was now in the office, suffering with an extraordinary anxiety, with fear, with vertigo that barely allowed him to open his eyes without feeling sick... he was suffering alone, because his mind only accepted that Bruce being close was a hallucination. He didn't blame him, after everything he had done in the past few day ... what he had said...

The makeshift shelter he had set up, a small tea table, trembled as did his body. The delicate porcelain pieces creaked with the tremor - they moaned like small creatures in agony.

But the sound didn't bother him, his mind was busy making him relive more painful memories.

The hallucinations lasted until the sound of an alarm clock echoed through the emptiness of the mansion and overpowered the others. It was an unceasing noise, fast and extremely loud. Then, footsteps... footsteps approaching. Perhaps it was just one of the toxin's side effects, yet another hallucination that seemed to be real.

— Mr. Pennyworth? — Damian's voice called from outside.

It was just a hallucination.

Damian was still unconscious - because of Bruce. If he had woken up, they would have already warned him... although they did, but it was probably just a false alarm like the other time.

If the little boy had really woken up, Tim would have bombed him with pictures and Dick would have called him countless times already... but he had left without his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed while dealing with things his way - blowing up the warehouse.

Do not.

There was no justification.

Damian awake was a hallucination!

A painful hallucination that would disappear like the others, sooner or later!

— Mr. Pennyworth? — the little one called again, now giving himself the freedom to open the door and look for the butler.

Jason sucked in as much air as he could and tried to stifle his own crying. He trembled even more with the internal struggle between the desire to see the brat and the fear of meeting that bloodthirsty beast like the last time - it was a hallucination, it could only be bad.

— I-Is... Is anyone here? — Damian asked lower — I... — He fell silent and seemed to think of something good enough for the situation — I-if you are a thief, the keys to the door are in the kitchen. Just... just doesn't hurt anyone, okay? Take a... a cookie for Titus and a Ace, they won't bite if they win cookies, it won't hurt them either! — He tried to sound brave, but his voice was as broken as his shaky legs.

— Damn it, Dami! Why do you have to be fucking cute with everyone!? — Jason sighed between sobs and cries — If I were a thief, I would have shot you already! — Rebuke a hallucination... proof of how out of control the rebel was.

The child, unlike him, did not see the whole situation as another “warning of imminent danger”. On the contrary: Damian smiled as he recognized his brother's voice, hurrying to turn on the lights and look for Jason. It was easy, after all, the tea table barely hid it with thin legs and the glass top.

— ... Jay! — the brat said full of happiness in seeing his brother again. Impulsive, he threw himself on the floor and managed to get under the table like the oldest, hugged him and stayed there, as if nothing else mattered but that troubled rebel — **I missed you** , you took a long time to come back! — looked at him, taking the opportunity to run his hand over his brother's face and wipe the tears — Are you sad? Did you have a fight with my father again?

— No, no brat... — Jason sighed and hugged him like a bear capturing his prey — I just... damn! — Sobbed — **I just missed you!** — He smiled, because at least in a hallucination he was seeing his favorite brat again, awake and well.

— Is that it?

— Yeah...

— And ... why did you hide here? — Damian did not want to disturb his brother, but his head was resting on his chest, he could hear the rapid beating.

— Even I don't know, Dami — He hugged him a little more — Woke up… you woke up a long time ago?

— No — Smiled — Where were you? Your clothes have a strange smell...

— I was... solving. That! Resolving... — He took a break to breathe a few times before continuing — Solving a few things, that's all — Again he paused, now to omit a sobbing cry and catch his breath — It's over, it's all over and gone be okay — he whispered more to try to calm himself than as an answer — be okay...

— Did you get hurt? — With a little effort, the little one managed to detach one of the arms from the embrace and touch his fingertips to a bandage on his brother's face - next to his mouth, which covered the entire cheek.

— ... Yeah, I think so... — Jason smiled a little forcedly, holding Damian's hands again and trying to calm himself with the idea of a possible infection in the place or something worse — Another scar as a trophy — he murmured softly, trying to convince yourself that it would pass.

— Don't you care about scars?

— Of course not, they make me more beautiful... — Again he forced himself to smile. He was breathing fast, in a desperate attempt to maintain control.

— ... Do you really think so? — Damian looked at him with green eyes full of curiosity.

— That I am handsome? Of course!

— I think so too, but not that... — he said with a lovely laugh at the end — The scars, don't you think they are ugly?

— I... should I? — Jason bit his lower lip, trying not to imagine all the scars on his body opening up again - in vain, because that anguishing sensation had already taken over him.

The little boy nodded and hid his face. He seemed to be thinking about what to say, but just took the courage to ask one more question:

— And my father, does he not care about them too?

— Bruce? Not that I know of, why? He... — He sighed, sniffed and then continued: — No, damn it... he has several.

— ... Sometimes he looks at mine... — Damian answered awkwardly — He must think me ugly...

— You are not ugly, Dami.

— Timothy calls me a gremlin...

— Fuck them, I am... your favorite brother and I’m saying: you are not ugly — He smiled, this time he tried to be genuine, but all he had to do was look at his little brother to lose the rest of his sanity.

— Not even with that scar on the eyebrow? — The little one looked at him, waiting anxiously for an answer. It was a small scar on his left eyebrow, nothing that caught the eye, let alone diminish the beauty of those green eyes.

However, Jason was not seeing this. He could see Damian's bumpy version with his face completely torn, lifeless eyes, muscles holding on to what the bang of the chandelier and that piece of metal had broken.

It was enough for him to start screaming in panic, kicking, giving himself up to tears and holding Damian against him the same way he did that day. The little one, without understanding what was happening, only hugged his brother more while asking:

— Jay, what happened!?

The rebel continued to scream and curse while he was breathing. Then he was content and wept until he sobbed, looking anywhere but his brother's misshapen face. He looked at the glass top of that small table that served as a shelter, with tea pieces in expensive and fragile porcelain... everything was shaking, they could break at any moment.

— Jay? — Damian called him worried.

Again the boy ignored the youngest, crawling to a safer place for both of them: he leaned back in an office chair, away from any piece of decoration or potentially dangerous object.

He held Damian to himself, completely immobilized in that bear hug.

— Jay, is everything okay?

— Just... — The older man took a deep breath, relieving the hug a little - the muscles were already numb — Just hug... quiet, ok? — asked — Just hug me... — He sobbed, trying to stop the tears again — It will be okay, everything will be okay… be okay...

Damian obeyed and hugged his brother as hard as he could. However, he did not contain the puerile curiosity he felt:

— Did you have a nightmare? — he asked quietly.

Jason sighed considerably more calmly and put a hand over his younger brother's hair, trying to prove to himself that Damian was fine. After a few seconds of an awkward caress, he finally managed to answer:

— This... is — He rested his chin on the top of his head — It's just a nightmare, everything will be fine...

— I also have bad nightmares... — Damian whispered — But just wake up and everything is fine. We're awake now, Jay...

— Shut up, you're just a fucking hallucination! — he murmured, trying to convince himself.

— **I'm sorry...** — the little one said softly, contenting himself with just hugging his brother by the shoulders and staying there with him, listening to his fast and uneven heartbeat.

Jason continued in the same way: with his chin resting on Damian's head, hugging him and being hugged back. The crying continued, considerably milder than before - perhaps the effect of that modified drug was finally dissipating.

He only got nervous again when he heard footsteps outside. Two figures entered through the door, which was just leaning:

— If I had not taken that tranquilizer, this would not have happened ... — Bruce grunted looking around, but it was enough to find the children safe to let a smile escape.

— If I hadn't taken that tranquilizer, Master Bruce, it would have happened while we were planning his funeral - Alfred replied a little more poisonously than usual - he was in a bad mood for having delayed Damian's medication schedule.

Jason gasped in alarm when he recognized Bruce, but what caught his attention was not the disheveled hair or the underside of Batman's uniform - the classic "underwear over his pants" - but the various dressings that almost completely covered his chest his. Dressings with reddish spots sprouting.

— ... F-Father !? — the rebel called him in a break voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear Gas, like Happy Gas, is an extremely dangerous chemical compound with variable and extremely dangerous reactions.  
> It was created by professor and doctor Paul Ferdinand Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, who was a great psychiatrist and psychologist, even leading the Arkham Asylum before losing the little sanity he still had. He conducted several experiments using humans, starting when he was still a professor at Gotham University.  
> Crane suffered a lot when he was a child, it was at that time that he gained an uncontrollable fear by crows (hence the Scarecrow, something that scares his own fear). When he was older, wanting to become stronger, he imposed on himself that he would never be afraid again and, for that, he started his studies focused on a toxin that would “help” people overcome their fears.  
> Such a toxin started out milder, like a “fear potion”, being allowed even at parties on the university campus. Then he started to improve it and finally arrived at Fear Gas with the help of Ra’s al Ghul (who made a rare flower available as a raw material).  
> There are currently several versions of Fear Gas. The effect varies, but it is always of intense, sometimes irrational fear, which can lead to death (from heart attack or harmful effects on the brain). Batman has already developed several antidotes to neutralize toxins, overcoming fear also nullifies some of the symptoms.  
> Note to note: The Scarecrow wears a mask to become immune to gas.


	50. Crisis

— Jason... — Bruce tried to keep his smile friendly, but the state his son was in was worrisome — How are you feeling?  
— What happened!? — Jason shrank even more when his father approached him a few steps - that was enough for the watchman to stagnate in place and stop the sudden movements. Damian, while still in that embrace, struggled to try to see his father or butler and find out what his older brother was talking about.  
— Master Jason, we talked after you let your brother go, he needs to take the medicines — Alfred tried to negotiate, approaching just two steps — You want him to be okay, don't you?  
— First my answers! — the boy demanded and pressed his brother against him even more tightly — What do you want with him? What medicines is he still taking!? What did I take!?  
The older ones looked at each other, remained in absolute silence while sharing a worried look. The Fear Gas alone was already potentially fatal, but the "new version" extended the effects for much longer - it could cause irreversible damage.  
— I want the fucking answers! — Jason demanded again. He got up from the floor while still holding his younger brother against him.  
— Son, please... — Bruce sighed.  
— Master Jason, we only want the best for you both.  
— Lie!  
— Jason ..  
— I know it's a lie!  
— Jay... — Damian almost called him in a whisper. He was still hugging him, but he was starting to get scared of how that discussion would end — Mr. Pennyworth doesn't lie.  
— Brat, you can't imagine how much everyone here lies! — Todd snorted and looked at his elders, then sniffed and used one hand to try to wipe away the tears — They are lying now, you know? But I can tell you the truth... it's just a hallucination, it won't be a problem.  
— ... Everyone lies? — The little one asked in a voice full of insecurity. I felt the body start to become rigid, the mouth to dry... — What are they lying about?  
— About nothing, Master Damian. His brother is going through a difficult time called "panic crisis" — Alfred tried to explain it in the best possible way — Please, disregard these accusations, he is too nervous and does not know what he says...  
— Crisis the fuck! I bet you drugged me like you do with the brat... — From a state of anger the rebel went into melancholy: — It is so easy to take care of him, but you keep giving these pills to him to sleep!  
— Are the medicines for me to sleep? — Damian struggled to try to face his elders, but Jason was still pinning him — Mr. Pennyworth, is that true? Dad, is it true!? — He could feel the suspicion increasing as I felt the body tingle.  
— You are scaring your brother, Jason — Bruce said in the most serious tone he could. If he got closer to his children, he needed to stop Jason before he did anything irreparable.  
— Master Jason, you need to remain calm — Alfred asked. Like Master Wayne, he disregarded Damian's questions - they were focused on eliminating danger first.  
— Calm fuck no! — Jason shouted.  
The rebel could feel the sanity that was still fading. The hideous figures and the menacing shadows were cornering him more and more...  
— Son...  
— DO NOT CALL ME SON! — He finally released the youngest, but only to start pulling his own hair with his hand - as if that were waking up from the nightmare he was living. When he saw that it wouldn't work, Jason just pulled back further and leaned against the wall, sat on the floor - still pulling on his hair.  
Damian took advantage to walk over to the butler and embrace him with the strength he still had - he was more reliable than his father. He felt that at any moment he would lose control of his own body and feared that he would arrive in the same state as his brother... he was afraid to start being as neurotic as he was now, but he needed to know:  
— Mr. Pennyworth... the medicines, do... — the little one looked at the butler with eyes overflowing with tears — Do they make me sleep? — Alfred opened his mouth, but said nothing — Do you want to get rid of me using them? I hate to sleep! I can... — He sobbed with his own cry — I can be quiet, I won't give you any more trouble, I promise! I'm sorry for killing Robin and causing trouble, please! I'll be quiet, please, Mr. Pennyworth! — begged — J-Just... don't make me sleep, please...  
The old man stared at Bruce for some support, anything that would minimally calm that frail child, but the other adult was too busy trying to get close to Jason without scaring him. Alfred carefully touched Damian's hair, took a deep breath and tried to explain it as succinctly as he could:  
— The medicines are for epilepsy, Master Damian. Unfortunately, they can cause reactions such as drowsiness... — careful, he used his thumbs to try to wipe the little boy's tears — But why do you hate sleeping?  
— ... B-Bad dreams... — he replied between his teeth, forcing himself to stop crying in order to explain better: — Very bad, nightmares… I die every time, Mr. Pennyworth! No matter what I do, wherever I go, I always die and don't wake up after that! — He hid his face in the butler trying to muffle his voice — It hurts, it hurts, it hurts... but I don't wake up, it's torture! I-I keep reliving everything wrong I did to try to stay alive, but I'm still dead, Mr. Pennyworth!  
To the surprise of the butler, Bruce who intervened to try to calm the younger son. As lovingly and zealously as possible, he took Damian on his lap and hugged him - as if he were a small child who needed to be restrained.  
After hearing the little report, the "inconsequential father" could only feel even more guilty for having neglected the little one. Now he understood that reluctance to sleep; that question "if I don't wake up?"; even bored drawings depicting nightmares - only when you know fear is it possible to stop having it.  
— Let's try other methods, son... you just need to be patient.  
The promise without an oath was enough for little Wayne to calm down a little and finally embrace his father as he used to do. In fact, it had been a long time since these actions had been repeated, one of the last times was when they were still in that neurological clinic.  
— WHAT OTHER METHODS!? — Jason forced himself to get up and faced his father — What are you going to do with him!?  
— There are other remedies that... — He stopped explaining when he faced his rebellious son, now with a hateful look, ready to attack him. There was not much to do, Bruce was hurt and with his son in his lap, it remained to try to avoid that attack or, at least, protect Damian.  
— RELEASE HIM!! — ordered. Even staggering, Jason was able to be agile thanks to the high levels of adrenaline.  
— Master Jason, restrain yourself! — Alfred demanded putting himself between him and the Wayne.  
Nothing more was needed.  
Jason saw a hideous figure with pulled, putrid skin in the place of the beloved butler. Even Alfred's voice sounded monstrous... the boy just cringed and dropped to the floor again, crying, since he couldn't save his brother - even if he saw him as a hallucination.  
— ... I'll be right back! — Alfred said quietly while rushing out of the office. Had no time to lose: the Fear Gas effect was overcoming the antidote effect. A new dose was needed as soon as possible, otherwise that crisis would become a much bigger problem - and perhaps irreversible.  
Bruce remained stagnant in the same place. He didn't take her eyes off Jason, but didn't approach him for fear of making the situation worse or of being attacked again - he didn't mind being hurt, but he wouldn't allow anything to happen to Damian.  
— Everything will be fine... — he whispered, as if trying to convince himself that everything would be resolved soon.  
— Dad... — When Bruce became the focus of total attention, the little one continued: — Can I talk to him? — He had already stopped crying, had smothered all the tears with the concern he felt for the older brother - it was Jason who needed to be saved.  
— Damian... — Bruce tried to argue a valid reason to deny, but there was no — Just be careful — he asked while placing him on the floor.  
And so, Damian approached his brother slowly, sat down next to him and waited patiently until Jason embraced him willingly. He didn't hold the brat in a bear hug, nor did he even have the strength to do that, but he hugged him with one arm and covered his face with the other - he didn't want to see those horrible things.  
— Jay, is it a nightmare again? — Damian asked quietly, he was worried about his brother. The boy was unable to answer, choked on his own tears - that torture was much worse than any nightmare.  
— He just needs the medicine, son. He'll be fine... — The father tried to explain.  
— Does he need medicine like me? T-To sleep?  
— No... — the eldest sighed — Son, you don't take medicine to sleep. Neither you nor Jason.  
— ... What are they for then?  
— Yours are for epilepsy and his for panic attacks... — Bruce ran his hands over his face. He had been through endless interrogations, tortures, threats... but Damian asking those questions - probably suspicious of him - gave a horrible feeling.  
— Why does my brother have panic attacks?  
— Because... because he... — He looked away — Because he had an accident when he was younger.  
— Yeah, an accident... — Jason intervened in the conversation — because of you! — He faced Bruce with anger overcoming fear — I died because of you and you are also to blame for the brat's death!  
— Jason! — Bruce scolded him, but the damage was already done:  
— ... I-I died? — Damian looked at his father and, with the lack of an answer, he looked away from his brother — Jay, have I died? — The rebel was also unable to answer that question, he continued to mutter that “B was the culprit”.  
With the lack of answers, Damian's mind accepted that as a truth and worked to shape the reality as vivid of those nightmares as something concrete, a painful reminder of what was probably his death.  
The little one, who was almost as scared as his brother, gave in to one of his absence crises. He faced nothingness, kept himself busy enough with his confused thoughts so that he no longer perceived the reality around him.  
When he finally realized what he did, Jason added the blame to the fear and it got even worse. He released his brother and covered his face with his hands, as if hiding his face was enough to hide everything and everyone who made him feel bad.  
Bruce, who could not do much for his children without making the situation any worse, was content to keep watching them and waiting for any sign of improvement. He felt completely useless, a lie as “Gotham's protector”, since he couldn't even be the protector of his own family.  
— May everything be fine... — he begged in a whisper to God, to the universe or any kind of force that would govern that cruel sequence of events.  
And so the seconds... the minutes passed.  
After what seemed like an eternity, Alfred carefully opened the office door and went in, carrying the antidote to Jason. The boy, by the way, was already lying on the floor babbling completely meaningless things - as when he had arrived at the Batcave -; Damian was still inert and Bruce was unable to do anything for his children - he tried, but Jason screamed and kicked at the slightest movement he did.  
— Master Bruce, be careful — the butler said handing him the syringes.  
— Alfred, you need to help me, I... — Bruce looked at the butler, but not even he knew exactly how Alfred could help now — Why two?  
— Forgive me, I do not want to watch how you are going to inject the two doses... — He said, showing how tired he was.  
— But Alfred... — Wayne tried again.  
— I'm sorry, Master Bruce, but my fees do not cover this type of situation — Even the attempt at sarcasm sounded more like a whine than something poisonous — If you need something, Dick is already returning... I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry, Master Bruce — he said softly as he stared at the floor, he felt defeated.  
Alfred left the office again, leaving Bruce even more lost than before. If he could, Wayne would have clung to the butler's feet and begged him to stay at least for emotional support, but he knew Alfred had been pushing himself for a long time.  
The patriarch looked at his children, took a deep breath in search of some stability and approached cautiously. Jason started shouting threats and things completely meaningless while Damian remained a statue.  
— Jason, you know I won't hurt you... — He tried to keep his voice as soft as he could — This is just an antidote to the fear gas. You want to stop seeing these hallucinations, don't you?  
Jason Todd fell silent, faced his father as he forced himself to sit on the floor and waited a few seconds before finally answering:  
— I want...  
— So you just need to trust me this time, son — he asked. Was already close enough to him preparing the syringe needle - just apply.  
— Ok, ok... — the boy murmured looking away from his younger brother — And Damian? What are you going to do with it?  
— There's not much you can do but wait — He sighed and held Jason's forearm carefully and firmly, ready to apply the serum and surprised by the momentary stability of the situation.  
— Hey! Don't come near me with this thing! I need a few seconds until... until I'm ready... — He pulled his arm towards him and stared at his father — I want a hug first.  
— ... A hug?  
— B, I am seeing you in such a horrible way... — Jason shrank — I am fucking scared! I'm just asking for a damn hug and you don't even want to give it to me! You're a fucking war veteran who doesn't even want to calm a soldier in the face of death!  
— ... Jason, you know it won't kill you, don't you?  
— I just wanted a hug... but you don't like me, do you? — said quietly, staring at Bruce with eyes overflowing with tears — Of course you doesn't like me, nobody does…  
The older one rolled his eyes, sighed again, put the needle aside and hugged Jason. It wasn't an exorbitant request, and if Bruce was really going to endeavor to be a good father, he needed to get used to hugs and things like that.  
Jason looked so scared and helpless... he just seemed, because the first chance he got, he took the needle and injected all the content in some region of his father's back - he couldn't defend himself, he didn't expect that kind of thing, no was prepared.  
However, Bruce managed to immobilize him before another attack was made. The second syringe was nearby, an extra dose of that cocktail to lower adrenaline would be fatal - taking into account the amount of tranquilizers the bat had already taken.  
Now it was time to wait, because the winner of that battle would be the one who resisted the longest.  
And so it was done.  
Bruce waited for what felt like hours, despite the clock showing a difference of only four minutes.  
He felt completely lost, a failure as a father or anything close to that... He even had doubts if he was still a hero - he was so easily deceived, his reflexes were slow...  
— Dad? — Damian called softly, running his hands over his eyes — What happened?  
— Nothing... — lied — Go to your room, son... everything will be fine.  
— ... Where's Mr. Pennyworth? — the little one looked around — why is Jason still like this? Didn't he take the medicine?  
— Not yet son... — Bruce arrested his older son a little more, Jason continued to squirm and murmur things completely meaningless — Better to wait in your room.  
— Do you want me to look for Mr. Pennyworth? He can help and...  
— Damian, go to your room — It took a lot of control for Bruce not to shout that order — Son, just try to go to sleep... ok? It's gonna be okay.  
In fact, it was not a lie. Jason was increasingly lost in fear, at any moment he would lose control by himself and giving a dose of the antidote would become something much easier - however, waiting so long could result in sequels.  
— I can help! — the little one insisted, approaching them.  
— Help me to escape! — Jason shouted in a small flash of sanity.  
— Damian, pay attention to me — Bruce said, he was much more serious than usual - he was like Batman — You will go to your room and stay there. There is no way to help me with your brother and Alfred needs some time... understand?  
— I can help! — repeated, looking like it was the old Damian insisting for something — It is just an injection, isn't it? — He took the second syringe and prepared a needle — I-I... I think I know how to do this...  
— You know, but you don't have to do it if you don't want to...  
— Do not do! — Jason shouted, struggling even harder — Don't do this to me, runt! — He tried to get rid of his father — do not do... don’t do, do not do...  
— Jason, calm down! — the eldest asked while trying to immobilize him more firmly — Damian, if you really want to help, you will need to inject this liquid into your brother... — He had to pause to be able to arrest Jason again, his own muscles were already starting to show rigidity due to the medication — You will need to be quick, before your brother gets hurt!  
Damian nodded positively, bringing the syringe close with his syringe to Jason's arm. He didn't understand how, but he knew where he needed to insert the needl ... first put a finger in the spot to make sure it would hit the target, but before he could pierce the skin, the brother put one hand over his - Bruce barely managed to arrest him now.  
— H-Him... You are always deceived by him... — Whispered — Don't do this to me, he doesn't really care, Dami! He is lying! — insisted looking at the youngest, now trying to reach his face with his free hand — He will never love us, he doesn't care... — he whispered, touching Damian's hair — We can run away... from him...  
— Damian, your brother is just hallucinating, is confused...  
— He will never be a good father for both of us! He never wanted us, Dami! — Jason shouted, insisting on getting rid of his father once and for all — It's all a lie! He wants to get rid of us, Dami... We are his two biggest mistakes! — He clung to his brother in an attempt to get up - he was so dizzy that he almost ended up knocking them both down.  
— ... A-Am I a mistake? — Damian looked at his brother and then at his father. Neither of them responded as he did the other time, which made the little one's mind as messed up as before, occupied with making that an irrevocable truth.  
He would have continued in that mess had it not been for the butler to kick the office door open, stealing everyone's attention by carrying an old rifle.  
— The only mistake here, Master Damian... — He took a short break and aimed at Jason — ... is that I think you could survive more than ten minutes without me — He shot. Jason settled down instantly, while Damian and Bruce stared at him with panic on their faces — Oh, no need to worry, it's just a medium-sized tranquilizer — Smiled — I think I'm more adept at unorthodox methods.  
.  
.  
.  
EPILOGUE  
.  
— Then Mr. Pennyworth appeared with a shotgun and solved everything! — Damian told his parents about the recent dream, glad that it was a nightmare with a happy ending. The three of them were having breakfast together at the big table in the ballroom.  
— And as always, Alfred solves everyone's problems in this house! — Selina commented between a laugh and another, eliciting a smile even from Bruce.  
— Son... — Bruce tried to sound mild, but he was clearly concerned — You were never a mistake, nor will you ever be. And his brother has crises at times, but he need not be afraid of him, let alone take seriously the insanities he talks about...  
— I know, it was just a dream — Damian smiled, but shortly afterwards he seemed to be thoughtful and looked at the elders somewhat more seriously — It was a dream, right?  
— Of course yes — Selina smiled.  
— Just another dream... — Bruce murmured and took a sip of coffee.  
The little one looked at them suspiciously for a few seconds, but soon afterwards he turned his attention elsewhere: Dick and Jason were coming to join them, Jay leaning on the older man's shoulders.  
— ... What happened to my brother? — The youngest looked at the two suspiciously, then looked at the parents, as if he expected some convincing explanation for that.  
— He arrived drunk at dawn, slipped on the stairs and fell sitting on top of the keys... a real tragedy, isn't it, Master Jason? — the house butler smiled in a corner, placing a jar of juice on the table  
— Yeah... — The boy turned his face to his own feet, he wouldn't risk answering something that would make the little brother's distrust increase even more. They had agreed that it would all be a nightmare - what was one more lie among so many others?  
Dick, no longer able to control his laughter, ended up commenting as if he wants nothing:  
— I already took a tumble of these entering the kitchen, I know how it hurts! — He helped his brother to sit in one of the chairs, more specifically, next to Bruce — Hun... No, that doesn't seem right to me. Selina, could you...?  
— Of course! — Understanding between the lines, the cat got up and finished taking the glass of warm milk standing next to Damian, taking the opportunity to touch his hair.  
— I can't believe you did that... — the rebel murmured watching Dick sit on the other side of Bruce.  
— ... Did what? — Damian, who still didn't quite understand what was happening, faced the brothers and then his mother in search of an answer - they were on the opposite side of the table.  
— Dick is jealous of me... — Jason replied and rolled his eyes.  
— Of course! Do you know how rare it is for Bruce to show up here at an acceptable time for breakfast?  
— Then why don't you take the B and stick it in your...  
— Language! — the father interrupted before any more insanity was said — nobody needs to be jealous, I treat you exactly the same.  
— ... With indifference? — Jason glared at him.  
— ... With a lack of dialogues, approaches or family moments? — Dick tried to make fun, taking the opportunity to annoy Bruce a little.  
— They are forgetting the disappointment! — Tim warned while approaching them next to Barbara.  
— You talk as if I really were that bad... — Bruce murmured taking some more coffee.  
— Sometimes you can be worse, B! — Barbara said laughing. She and Tim stayed behind the chair where Bruce was sitting, they could feel the “judgmental look” even with his back to them.  
— They speak as if they were well-behaved and obedient angels — the father murmured surly, taking the newspaper.  
— It is the duty of every Rob... — Jason rethought and corrected: — ... of every son to disobey his father! — countered — Isn't it? — Faced the others.  
— You are the family rebel, Jay, don't count! — Dick said between the laughs — Everyone knows that I am the most behaved and obedient here.  
— Excuse? — Barbara got into the discussion.  
— Both wrong: the only one who still listens to B is me — Timmy said convinced.  
Damian stared at his brothers, his father... the red-haired girl he didn't know yet, but who Alfred had said was Bruce's godson named Barbara Gordon, or Babs. They all looked so good together, as if they were a family in the television margarine commercials.  
— Dami, why don’t you join them? — Selina asked in a low voice, she didn't want to call attention to other people, she was still talking about “parental attributes”.

— I believe that in the well-fitting... — He looked at the mother — As if I Im’t part of... that.   
— It was only a dream, my kiddo... — Careful, she tried to pull Damian's hair out of her eyes, put it back as it used to be, but the straight strands just ran and came back to the same place — Go there and give a pretty smile.  
— But mom, is it okay to take a picture of them distracted? — The little one asked as he stood up.  
— And is there a better way to take a picture of someone? — She smiled in a corner, also drawing a smile from the little one. She took out his cell phone and prepared to take as many photos as possible before anyone noticed or before they started fighting as usual. Damian, who at first looked more like a shy boy, at the last he was already clinging to his brothers, laughing, having fun...  
— An excellent way to end a family crisis, Miss Kyle — Alfred commented optimistically, pouring another cup of warm milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we reach the end of the second phase. I am confident that it was very different from what I intended, since the idea of these last five chapters was to summarize more personas. However, they will appear next! We still have a lot, a lot of chapters for a while, so don't worry! XD  
> As a final note, since I have nothing very important or interesting to say, I will kill a possible curiosity of you. Remembering: I changed some things to fit the fanfic better.  
> .  
> Selina Kyle:  
> Age: approximately 33 years.  
> Height: 1,70 m (according to DC Comics, game Arkham)  
> Weight: 60 kg (rounded because it is "less active")  
> .  
> Alfred Pennyworth:  
> Age: 72 (according to DC Comics)  
> Note of note: time passes, but Alfred is eternal.


	51. Meeting

— The reason for today's meeting is to talk about...

— ... How terrible you are! — Jason interrupted his father with a wicked smile on his face.

— Worried about me, son? — Bruce smiled in a corner. The others who were seated at the big dinner table laughed at the blush of the “family’s rebel”, mainly because he was silent — To resume: today we will decide what to do about your brother.

Barbara immediately raised her hand and, without even waiting for everyone's attention, she started to speak:

— I'm not trying to take everything seriously, but here is the right place for this type of conversation? — She looked around, everyone seated at the table as if waiting for a dessert or something — I mean... — She ran his hand through his hair — ... downstairs we have more... — She stared at the huge windows, which they overlooked the mansion's garden — ... privacy — She waved to Damian. The little one was playing with the dogs outside.

— Exactly — Alfred gave a simple smile, placing a tray of cookies in the center of the table and, soon after, starting to serve tea — You will have all the privacy in the world, but Damian will be suspicious.

— The brat may even be a little child now, but it is hard to hide everything from him — Jason explained while stuffing two cookies in his mouth at once — Alfie, why give me a plastic cup? I am not the baby of the house! — Perhaps the slurred speech or the lost look already denounced everything, but Alfred insisted on answering:

— Because you are forbidden to carry potentially dangerous objects while you are under observation — The butler explained sweetly — In fact, I hope we do not have any kind of heated argument with the tea set being used as artillery.

Everyone looked at each other.

In a meeting with so many different opinions, the least that could be expected from the participants was a fight... but not at that moment. Bruce and Selina were watching their son play outside; Jason was on tranquilizers; Barbara, Tim and Dick would not start a fight with the weakened state of others.

— I think we can start now... — Richard commented with a hopeful smile, he wanted to propose alternative methods to deal with his little brother.

— If you need anything, I'll be with Master Damian — Alfred warned while walking towards the door.

— Alfred, you are as necessary here as any other...

— Everyone already knows my opinion, Master Bruce — the butler interrupted him — Just in case, make Miss Kyle's words mine too.

And so the butler withdrew from the meeting.

In the end, all that excitement would only serve as a small dose of tranquilizer for everyone's mood. No one wanted to face the frightening truth that nothing and no one would be able to help Damian.

The answer was not a meeting, nor was it voting for the “next step”.

The only thing they could do, regardless of the way, was to wait.

— Master Damian... — The butler called and, when the child of the house looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, he continued: — ... I brought cookies! — announced, earning a huge smile from little Wayne.

Alfred, who has dealt with far more cruel guidelines than that, was resigned. He would expect Damian to return to being the same as before, enjoying the company of that lovely boy, which he believed was the most correct.

.

.

**1st Proposal**

.

— **Out of question!** — Bruce rested his hands on the table and stood up, facing his eldest son as if he had received an offense.

— Why!? — Dick repeated his father's actions — Raven's powers can heal him in seconds, what is the cost of trying!?

— It can cost the little sanity that **my son** still has! — the eldest accused and pressed the temples. He took a deep breath and finally ended that little disagreement: — I **don't want** this girl near him! From his mind!

— But Bruce...! — Dick took a deep breath, looked at Selina and pointed at her with both hands — Look at her: it doesn't even look like that pile of burnt and twisted meat! Do you know why? — He looked at his father again, he was angry — Raven healed her! It healed without demanding anything!

Jason, who until now was completely lucid - despite the lethargy -, felt his stomach turn. Just by imagining that scene, he felt chills, he had to control himself not to put the cookies out...

— Enough, Richard! — Selina also got up.

— The only thing you should have is a little gratitude and trust in her! I'm sure that if I had let her do something when they found Dami on the day of the accident, she...!

— Enough of this shit! — Jason demanded, getting up and forcing Richard to return to the chair.

Bruce and Selina sat down too.

Everyone was silent.

.

.

— Mr. Pennyworth... — Damian stared at him — May I ask for something?

— Whatever you want, Master Damian — He smiled.

— ... Can you teach me how to make cookies? — whispered the request as if it were a big secret.

.

.

**2nd Proposal**

.

— They are keeping him **hidden** from everyone and everything, maybe when he sees other people he starts to remember... — Barbara stared at the "godfather". She was sitting next to him and facing the brothers.

— He remembers some things when he sleeps, nightmares... — Bruce turned his face — He is so scared...

— Maybe it is better to wait a little longer before introducing more people, Damian is much more uneasy since he woke up — Selina finished discarding that idea. She carefully held the boyfriend's hand, trying to provide some support.

— He reacted very well to Barbara — Dick grunted a little jealously. The redhead laughed, took something out of her purse and removed the puzzle:

— Strawberry candies! — Showed some to the boy — Damian loves strawberries.

— Fruits in general... — Jason completed, yawning shortly thereafter.

— Anyway, he seems to like meeting new people — Tim commented and lifted his shoulders. Despite bad first impressions, Damian seemed more than willing to try to please anyone.

.

.

— Then just bake them in a medium oven. I believe I have not forgotten anything, but just in case the recipe book is in the pantry — Alfred smiled. He wanted to squeeze Damian's cheeks. The little one had his eyes shining so brightly, he looked like a child when he receives Christmas presents.

— ... So... incredible... — whispered — It's so incredible!

— I'm glad you enjoyed it. A few drops of vanilla essence make all the difference, really.

— Not the cookies, Mr. Pennyworth... but they are wonderful! — Corrected yourself, taking one more — It is amazing that you turn flour into cookies! It even looks like magic...

— Well...! — Alfred let a laugh escape, embracing that child as if he didn't want that moment to end — And you turn graffiti and a piece of paper into a work of art, Master Damian.

.

.

**3rd Proposal**

.

— ... And that is why I think the two things are related — Tim finished his explanation and faced the other participants. He had a simple smile, euphoric for feedback.

— ... I still think it's a good idea to let Raven come here.

— **It is not** a good idea — Bruce replied.

— ... Ok, does anyone have any questions about divergent timelines? I can take the computer and show the results of the simulations — the nerd suggested, still hoping to be heard by someone.

Jason raised his hand.

— You don't need to raise your hand, Jay, just ask — Timothy was smiling from ear to ear. Everyone else looked rebellious with some apprehension about the question.

— What was in my tea?

— ... What does this have to do?

— To do with what?

— ... Jason, I spent the last five minutes summarizing my work for the past three months. Did you even hear?

— Of course not, I was distracted! — He lifted his shoulders and yawned — B, what was in my tea?

— Did anyone hear me? — Timothy got up — Could someone at least repeat a part of what I said!?

— What was in my fucking tea!? — Jason got up too.

— Soothing! — Bruce finally replied, squeezing his temples — They are just soothing, Jason... Tim, despite admiring all your dedication to the study of these divergent lines, is unlikely to be the cause. Damian is like that because of the accident and...

— **BECAUSE OF YOU!** — Jason interrupted his father, just did not move on him because Timothy arrested him — It is your fault! Your!!! — He was out of control, with the look of a real maniac.

Bruce just turned his face away, he didn't want to face those accusations. He was already so tired of everything that he would try to ignore and ignore what hit him there. He **needed t** o do this, because he felt couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it if anything else happened to that family... **he** **needed everyone together.**

— SHUT UP! — Selina demanded, standing up and resting her hands on the table — It is **your fault** for only making bad decisions, Jason. Your! — shot coldly — The last was the brilliant idea of blowing up a warehouse full of chemicals! What he wanted? Kill yourself!?

— ... No, I... — The rebel rethought his actions. Now he was confused, as if he didn't even remember what just did — ... I... I didn't want to kill myself. B, I didn't want to kill myself...

— Then why did you go alone!? — The cat continued.

— ... Because... Because I... — Jason sat down again. Selina seemed terrifying to her: a monster speaking cruel truths, a monster with burnt and distorted flesh... He could smell the smoke — ... I'm scared again…

— The drugs take effect, son — Bruce murmured running his hands over his face, he already had a few drops of sweat sprouting.

Selina noticed her boyfriend's condition and sat down next to him again, running a hand over her back in an attempt to comfort him. As much as Bruce disliked displays of affection in public, it was what he needed.

Timothy sat down too, resenting the lack of attention.

— ... So, next? — Barbara suggested, placing a hand on Wayne's shoulder.

.

.

— I will not disturb, Mr. Pennyworh? — Damian asked the same thing for the third or fourth time. He carried the tray to help Alfred.

— Of course not! — the butler replied with the same smile as the other times — What harm would he have in helping me with lunch?

— ... Have I helped you before?

— No, not that I remember — He opened the kitchen door and gave way to Damian — But gastronomy was never something of interest to the Wayne in general — He smiled — Who knows, it is more a hidden talent of yours, waiting to be polished.

Damian left the empty tray over the sink, smiled and looked at the butler with an air of childlike curiosity, then asked:

— Mr. Pennyworth, has my father ever tried to learn to cook?

— ... He does an excellent job using the microwave, something beyond that goes beyond the capacity he was able to develop.

.

.

**4th Proposal...**

.

— We can continue another day... — Barbara suggested, she was really worried.

— No, I just need one more minute — Bruce said as low as in a whisper, squeezing his temple again — It is already passing, it is just a malaise.

— It's just your high blood pressure rising even more — Selina corrected — Bat, you need to take care of yourself...

— I just need less hassles.

— It really would help... — the cat agreed.

— Jay is also not very well... — Dick commented passing a hand on his brother's back, Jason was leaning over the table.

— It is still the effect of the Gas of Fear, it will take a few days to get through — Tim explained, he had gone through something similar to the Happy Gas.

Everyone kept quiet, talking in whispers until the patriarch was finally better off to continue the meeting. However, before that happened, Jason decided to make one more appearance:

— What if we take Dami to the circus? — Faced the others.

—Jason, this is not a meeting to choose tourist spots for Damian — Bruce replied, dismissing the idea immediately.

— ... The brat is very stuck, sure he will improve more if he sees life outside — He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the horrible figure of Selina sitting in front of him — When I was bringing him from the clinic, I managed to distract him with the moon in an earache crisis or something. He needs to be more distracted, being alone in here is doing him harm... — He yawned.

The father ran his hands over his face, murmuring something like "give me patience". Selina, who still had that horrible shape in Jason's eyes, made her boyfriend rest his head on her shoulder... Todd saw a horrible scene, with that thing trying to hurt Bruce. He chose to lean over the table again and hide his face.

— Until it makes sense... — Gordon commented with an encouraging smile — Damian will like to go out with Jason for a while. He obeys what you say, doesn't he? What harm would it do?

— Yeah, I understand these childish things... I take care of Bizarro! — He raised his head again, smiling, proud of his potential.

Bruce was going to counter that pointless justification, but Selina took his voice:

— Jason, you are not going to take my son for a walk with that alien friend from a laboratory! He's dangerous, not as much as you are, but he is!

— Looking this way, I withdraw what I said — Barbara looked away. There were countless reasons why Jason didn't take care of a child, she was remembering them.

— No, no... Just me and Bizarro didn’t — Jason tried to speak fast, but his tongue was starting to curl — Artemis would be there too! — He smiled, as if that was a great reason.

— Do you want to promove yourself to your friends using your little brother? — Bruce finally said something. He stared at Jason in disbelief that that kind of suggestion really made sense in his rebellious son's troubled mind.

— Worse... — Tim sighed — He wants to promove himself to Damian using his friends.

— Sure he will enter the motorcycle on fire in the arena! — the older brother commented trying not to laugh.

— If he went with you, I bet he would be doing those pirouettes in the air with fire in the a...!

— The two are enough! — Bruce put an end to the little fight of the older children that had not even started — You can only be trying to kill me... Damian will not set foot outside this mansion!

— But...!

— Without "but"! Joker is loose, Scarecrow is loose! I don't even want to think about my son susceptible to... — He couldn't finish, his head was throbbing.

Timothy looked at the older brothers and said, just before he lowered his head on the table:

— I can't believe I woke up early for this...

Dick ended up turning his face. He didn't want to admit it, but taking Damian outside could be a great idea, at some point he might remember something - or bump into a friend with magical healing powers...

Jason just leaned over the table again. He hated tranquilizers... even more so when they took effect quickly.

— Guys... — Barbara got up — Look at the state of Bruce... of you. It is not too much to ask everyone to take this here more seriously, we are talking about Damian — She looked at everyone present, sighed and addressed the most problematic brother: — Jason, wake up! At least try to defend your proposal with some valid reason!

— Hun...? — The boy murmured and looked up again — That is why we have to take him to the circus.

— ... So what, Jay?

— Everyone likes circus!

.

.

— Your talent with knives is really surprising, Master Damian! — The butler smiled, collecting the various vegetables cut in perfectly symmetrical cubicles — Could you cut those apples too? I will prepare a pie for dessert.

— Of course!

— Let's finish lunch well in advance... how about enjoying your free time in a game of Dirt Ralle? — Alfred looked at the child sideways while stirring one of the pots.

— ... Realy!? — Damian left the apples aside — Can you teach me how to play, Mr. Pennyworth!?

— It is not to brag... — The eldest smiled, taking a spoonful of the sauce and taking it for the little one to try — ... but I was the one who taught all the shortcuts to this game to his father.

.

.

**5th Proposal**

.

— Better take Jay to the room, before he drops the tablecloth... — the cat commented while helping her boyfriend to get up.

— You still lack, Selina... — Barbara found, helping her with Bruce.

— My opinion on this I think everyone already knows. Alfred thinks like me...

— I still don't know... — The redhead stared at her.

— She wants the gremlin to continue without remembering anything — Tim replied in her place.

— No, it is not that — Selina looked at Timothy so seriously that even Jason - more asleep than awake - was afraid of her — I just want my son not to freak out. The attacks, they stopped since Damian woke up, but he still has the chance to remain... — she was unable to conclude.

— Epileptic? — Barbara asked softly — But if he remembered or not, he wouldn't change that... would he?

— He is starting to have some memories and that is enough for him to have nightmares, I do not want him remembering everything at once... his mind would not support — She was embraced by Bruce, proof that that subject it was much more delicate than it seemed — It is best to let him remember alone, little by little, without forcing...

— And the best thing is to keep lying to him? Lie about everything? — Dick said letting on how wrong he thought that — I hate lying to him! He... he trusts everything we say, it is so wrong to use this to make him believe that he is only afraid! If we speak the truth at once, he would understand! It could even get better... allow other people to help!

— Dick, your brother is scared — Bruce looked at his eldest son — scared of his own memories.

.

.

As they walked into the games room, Damian looked quickly into the room. Everyone was there, having fun, it seemed.

— Mr. Pennyworth... — The little one stared at the butler — ... what are they doing?

Alfred cleared his throat and tried to come up with an explanation good enough to convince young Wayne that he was not left out of anything fun, but something important.

— They decided to have a small company meeting at the mansion, so that no one would be away from you for a long time — Smiled — Isn't it great?

— Yes it is! — He smiled too — I like it when everyone is together... it is... it's good, it feels warm — He was thoughtful, as if he were really trying to remember something — ... Mr. Pennyworth, everyone works at same company?

— It is not exactly that, your father likes to keep everyone informed.

— And did I participate in these meetings? Before... — Damian looked away — ... from being like this? — He found no other way to explain how insignificant he felt most of the time. He was afraid that was just disturbing everyone, that was no longer needed... that they wouldn't want him around anymore - like now.

— Yes, but only out of obligation — Alfred touched Damian's dark hair, so smooth and heavy... it was past time to cut it — You always found these meetings a drag — He smiled, trying to put the strands back — I have to me, Master Damian, that this was due to the requirement of a more... — He looked for a simple word that fit there — ... more formal! If pajamas were allowed, it would be more fun, don't you think?

— Yeah, I think so — The little one tried to smile, but he was still discouraged.

— Fortunately, now you can escape the meetings and have fun playing video games while they talk about boring subjects — He held the boy's cheeks — And best of all: wearing a beautiful dinosaur pajama.

Damian ended up laughing, an adorably contagious laugh.

As much as he wanted little Wayne to return to normal, Alfred loved that spontaneous sound of joy. I would miss those laughs...

— You know... — He cleared his throat — His father likes dinosaurs so much that if he could, he would have one in the living room — He got closer to Damian, as if he were going to tell a big secret: — He already tried to put a T-Rex there , but it was not tall enough!

This time, Damian burst out laughing. His cheeks were reddened when he managed to stop laughing.

.

.

**6th Prop... 4th Disagreement.**

.

— At least I try to make him remember showing his old room! — Richard stood up — And you, who tried to kill Damian **twice**! — pointed to the youngest present, accusing him.

— Go to shit, Dick! I already said that I didn't blow that stupid bird, he blew himself up! — Timothy was demanding the best of himself not to throw the cup of tea at him.

— AND WHY DID IT GIVE SOMETHING DANGEROUS FOR A CHILD TO PLAY!? — The oldest hit a punch on the table.

— AND WHY DID YOU NOT TAKE ACCOUNT OF IT!? — Unfortunately, Tim lost his self-control and disobeyed Alfred: he used the expensive shah set as artillery.

— Enough! — Bruce tried to impose some authority on the two, but the only thing that prevented one from jumping on the other's neck was Jason, sleeping sitting between the two brothers — Stop throwing things at each other, they will end up hitting...! — Before he could even finish speaking, Dick had already thrown a saucer at Barbara by accident.

— YOUR...!

Normally, the commissioner's daughter would take a deep breath and try to maintain her composure. However, spending hours in the company of everyone, enduring the nerves to the skin and the childish behavior of the "brothers" made it even worse than them: in seconds she had already climbed on the table and was playing everything she saw ahead on top of them.

Dick and Tim clung to each other and tried to dodge the chinaware while delivering offenses and blows. At a certain point in the heated fight, they ended up on the floor - they even knocked over Jason's chair, luckily the rebel continued to sleep.

— Hey! Enough! — Bruce tried again, generating absolutely no results.

Bruce Wayne, Batman or any other respectful figure that that tired, finished, unshaven man could be; he broke away from his girlfriend, clenched his fists against the table and shouted the order to his children:

— **STOP NOW!**

It worked perfectly... in the first five seconds.

After that, Richard threw Timmy at Jason - the youngest was hanging on him trying to give him an armbar -; then Barbara hit her older brother with one of the chairs; Dick tried to get one of the seats to hit her too, but Timothy knocked him over to the floor before that.

Anyway, the fight resumed with even more force.

The patriarch settled back in his chair, watching that pointless spectacle. The pressure was already high, the vision was already blurred, the heart was already racing... really, he didn't know how to deal with his own children without Alfred for more than ten minutes.

The only thing he did was rest one hand on his chest and start a kind of caress, a relaxing massage to relieve some of the stress. It was the little he could do there, besides ignoring his children - despite feeling a little sorry for Jason, who looked more like a dead body on the battlefield.

— Bat, I will go to see our baby — Selina warned in the lowest possible tone, leaving stealthily soon after. I didn't even want to imagine what those "children" could do if the fight continued in the other rooms in the house.

She looked for her son in the garden, in the kitchen, in his room... she would be nervous already if she wasn't absolutely sure that Alfred would be with him. He found them both in the games room, laughing, they looked like two children...

— I won! — The youngest raised his arms, celebrating — I can't believe I won!

— It was a tie, Master Damian! A tie! — the butler reinforced — But it was a great victory — he smiled.

— So my Dami won a game? — she asked, settling next to his son.

— Yeeees! — Damian made a point of prolonging the "e" while hugging his mother — Mr. Pennyworth taught me how to play!

— Apparently it taught very well! — Selina ended up giving in to her wishes and hugged the little one, filling him with kisses on the face. She loved seeing him so happy... she felt happy too.

— So well that I will let you play against a great competitor — the butler announced extending control to Selina — I imagine that Master Bruce is in need of more tea... — He sighed, wondering how badly the meeting could have ended.

— With chamomile, Alfred... — She held the remote and stared at the butler, she was visibly tired.

— Is my father nervous? — Damian looked at his mother suspiciously, then at the butler and waited for an explanation. The older two looked at each other and replied in unison:

— He always gets nervous at these meetings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In fact, I will use these final notes to give two important warnings!  
> The first is that soon the divergent timelines will finally be explained. Yes, the most important proposal was discarded, left out... Poor Timbo.  
> The second warning is that I will post the fanfic Revive: Summary. Literally, it will be just a summary of this fanfic for everyone to follow without actually reading anything. Tell that to your lazy friend, that you asked to read the fanfic and he didn't want to because they had a lot of words, kkkks. It is also good to remember the chapters, as it will take me a little longer to release updates.


	52. Lunch

Moods were already calmer.

Bruce was still sitting in exactly the same place. He watched the kids try to help Alfred with the mess, watched Dick, Tim and Barbara take Jason to the bedroom, watched the lunch table be set. He was calmer already, but he still felt weak enough not to risk unnecessary movements - he would save whatever energy he had for his nightly rounds.

— Dad? — Damian called him by placing his hand on his shoulder — Is everything okay?

— I'm just distracted... — He put his hand over his son's — Did something happen?

— ... I think so. — replied quietly — My mom has been on the phone for a long time, she seems nervous... Who is Lois?

— Lois is a friend. — Bruce gave a small smile, he knew perfectly well the reason for that nervousness — Son, are you listening to other people's conversations?

— No! — Damian tried to pull his hand towards him — I swear I didn't! I only heard a little bit because I was turning off the video game, I swear! — The eyes got to have some tears stuck.

— Alright, alright... — Carefully, Bruce pulled him over and made his son sit on his legs. He looked like a child afraid of being grounded... a small child, a version of himself that, unfortunately, Bruce never had the chance to meet - maybe not even Talia had met this helpless and fearful Damian — I just asked why before you had this habit.

— Sometimes I feel like... — Damian said softly — ... like listening to what you say with Mr. Pennyworth or with my brothers, but I swear I don't do that!

— What does my adorable son not do? — Selina asked approaching them.

— Nothing... — The oldest Wayne answered for the youngest.

— Nothing but help with lunch! — Alfred commented smiling, finishing placing the dishes on the table — Should I put a plate for Mrs. Lane?

— Actually, Alfred, you must remove mine. — She gently touched Damian's hair, making the little one stare — I will go to Metropolis to visit a friend, I must return tomorrow morning... with a surprise for you!

— Surprise? What surprise?

— If I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore! — She let a little laugh escape.

— It will make him anxious... — Bruce warned.

— If he gets too anxious he can tell what it is — She laughed again and then kissed her son's forehead.

Damian stood up and hugged her. It was a small attempt to prolong her presence there and, as ineffective as it sounded, it worked: Selina stood embracing him for a few minutes. She waited patiently until he finally released her and then placed another kiss on his forehead.

— I promise to come back tomorrow morning... maybe even before you wake up — She smiled, holding him by the cheeks.

Bruce was about to say something against that match: he knew exactly what Selina would do and, especially, who he would bring with her. He didn't think it was a good idea, not yet. However, before he could say anything, Richard deconcentrated him by placing his hand on his shoulder:

— I'm going to meet Wally — He warned with a smile on his face, a sign that it was just a meeting of friends.

— Are you going back soon? — Damian looked at him, he was visibly sad with so many lefts at the same time.

— I promise to come back before dinner — The older brother smiled and went to the little one, messing up his hair as much as he can — With candies! — He looked at Selina, still with the smile on his face, and then asked: — Shall we go?

Bruce stared at his girlfriend and she nodded.

He was perplexed by that suspicious level of complicity between the two - especially knowing the views of the eldest son. Selina used to act behind his back, anyone's back, but he was in no shape to endure any more blows.

— Cat...!

— It's just a ride to the port — Selina answered him even before he asked anything else — Trust me, bat — asked in a whisper when she was close enough to him to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Damian watched his parents closely, he liked to see them together - although his cheeks were red with the expressions of affection between the two. Bruce continued to stare at Selina in silence, until she and Dick left - the son opened the door for her like the good gentleman he is.

The detective was lost in suspicions and thoughts that brought down all those suspicions, since he didn't want to be suspicious of two people he had as a base...

— Das... — When he got the look and attention of the elder, Damian continued: — What do I like to eat?

Bruce finally looked at something beyond the now closed door. He was so caught up in that internal fight that he didn't realize that Timothy, Barbara and Damian were sitting next to him.

— Dad...? — Damian called him again, anxious for the answer.

— Anything.

— Anything?

— That I remember, yes. — Bruce looked at the faithful butler — He always ate anything, right?

— Fortunately only edible things, but I caught he trying to make tea with the flowers at the entrance — the butler confirmed.

— So why do I always eat different things? Is it because of the drugs?

Alfred and Bruce fell silent, not sure how to explain. They wanted Dick to be there, he was much better at these matters, or even Jason. Tim, who had remained silent until that point, smirked and cut a generous piece of the roast he was eating, then handed it to Damian with a fork.

— Try.

— I really can? — The boy smiled. He was used to the kindness of his older brothers and Mr. Pennywood, even his busy father was more kind to him than Timothy.

— Of course, proof.

— I don't think it's a good idea, son... — Bruce murmured a little seriously, totally disapproving Drake's actions.

— Why? — Damian asked, already holding his fork and ready to try the roast.

— Because you are a vegetarian.

— He **was** a vegetarian — Tim pointed out, drawing a reproachful look from Bruce.

— Tim, I don’t know what the purpose of all this is, but I hope you don’t bother Damian again — the father started, soon being interrupted:

— It has no purpose, I only accepted once that Damian lost his memory and we need to help him in this to start his life in a different way... Of course, without trying to give an answer to what happened! — He went back to eating quietly.

— I don't like your tone.

— Ah, B! — The boy hurried and swallowed the food — He forgets everything close to the pinscher-gremlin attacks or whatever, he remembers nothing but the nightmares and still has bouts of pain depending on what he hears! Obviously we don't have to worry about what happened, do we!? — Timothy was visibly irritated by not being taken seriously — I better accept that this is going to be the new version of Damian, is even less boring!

— Timothy! — Bruce was exalted — A little more respect for his conditions!

— What conditions!? He's great, he's just out of memory! — Even if defending himself, the boy would not miss the chance to spill out at once: — He just doesn't want to continue leading the life he used to. It is better for him to end up like this, just losing his memory, than to be discarded when another one arrives or ends up dying, isn't it?

And so an argument started, where the two - Bruce and Timothy - were terribly wrong.

While practically shouting to see who was right, Alfred silently approached the child of the house and helped him to escape with slow and devious steps. Damian said absolutely nothing in the middle of it all, but it was enough that they reached the stairs for him to start crying and blaming himself:

— I swear I didn't want them to fight, I swear I didn't ask for anything bad, Mr. Pennyworth!

— And nobody is blaming you, young man... — in the most docile way possible, the butler ruffled his hair in an attempt to comfort the little one. However, that affection only served to make Damian burst into tears even more, even sobbing.

— I-I don't wa-ant to be discard-ded!

Alfred remained there, he could not do much at the moment besides messing with his spiky dark hair trying to calm the boy. He had even considered the idea of taking Damian in his arms, as he did with little Bruce as a child, but he was not sure if it was the best option - after all, stress was enough to trigger an epileptic seizure, and in those seizures it was better than person to stay on the floor.

Fortunately for the butler, Barbara had already finished lunch in the middle of the discussion. She approached them as quickly as she could when she noticed that little Damian was crying. Without explaining, she grabbed the boy as Dick used to do and took him upstairs... she was worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I already talked about Barbara in a previous note (on that Extra before Limbo), but I will take advantage of her presence being becoming more routine for some extra information:  
> Age: around 22 years old.  
> Height: 1.80 m approximately.  
> Weight: 61 kg.  
> Differential: always goes with strawberry candies.  
> Soon, we will have an addition in this information of all the characters. But only when Damian finds out what each member of that family "works" for.  
> Note of note: in Brazil (where I live), lunch is the main meal. It is usually when we bring the family together to eat... I know that in other countries it doesn't work like that, but what better time to “wash dirty clothes”, right?


	53. Extra

Richard Grayson felt sweat building on his forehead; trembling hands; scratching throat...

— I haven't seen Wally in a long time! — commented and smiled broadly.

— A pity that you will not meet him today. — Selina murmured and put the cell phone in the bag.

The boy took advantage of being on a clean track to put the car on the shoulder. He took two or three deep breaths until he managed to look at her smiling once more and comment, in a slightly high-pitched voice:

— what are you talking about!?

— I heard you marking with your alien girlfriend... — She sighed and stared at the boy — In fact I wouldn't even have heard anything, just think about it: you would invite your friend over to the mansion, you wouldn't offer a ride if you didn't want to be sure that I would be far...

— I know this may seem wrong, but...!

— It's insane! — Selina interrupted him — I am grateful to Rachel for saving me from that horrible death, but she saw more than she should... Dick, leave her out of it. Damian is already remembering recent things, soon he will be back to normal.

— What if he doesn't come back!? — The boy rested his face on the steering wheel. He was brooding over anger at being careless, but even more so because Selina posed a huge threat to his plans. He was also afraid he would never have the Damian I loved back.

The older one took off her seat belt, moved a little closer to him and started to run a hand over his back in an attempt to calm him down. There was no other intention there, something relatively new for her: to act with no future interest.

— He will come back — whispered.

— Not! You do not understand! — Dick cringed even more trying to contain the start of a cry — The longer it takes to help him, the worse it will be! He's starting to think that memories are just dreams, he won't accept the truth afterwards! He won't want to be a Robin because he will be scared! — Both were silent for almost a minute, until the boy was bothered by the lack of disagreement: — Won't you try to convince me that I'm wrong? — He stared at the "stepmother" and was surprised when he noticed that she was smiling - maybe even arresting laughter — You can only be insane...

— Insane!? — She ended up losing control and laughing — Yeah, maybe I was like that after so many... incidents. But try to convince me, I am not your father, I will let you argue before I prove it is a bad idea.

The boy ran his hands over his face, then took a deep breath. As much as he tried to hide how frustrated he was, the voice already denounced:

— It won't be the first time she will cure him...

— But it is the first time after that accident. We still don't know what happened there... we can only imagine how bad it was.

Richard looked away.

Tears were already welling up just for remembering Damian that day: wounds, open fractures... his leg just hanging from his skin. Not to mention the face in a frozen panic with part of the skull broken and torn. Worst of all was to know that Damian was still alive, suffering from that excruciating pain.

— He will remember sooner or later!

— In this case: the later, the better.

— Do you want him to remain afraid?

— I just want to protect my son... — Selina took a deep breath and looked out the window — Have you tried to imagine yourself in another life?

— ... As well?

— Simply another life. Start from scratch, without remembering anything or anyone that holds you... maybe you could become a commissioner, a governor... a taxi driver of those very grouchy people who make funny jokes — Smiled — You would have the his normal life, his normal friends, a girlfriend... — He ended up having a laugh — ... or several!

— And Batman? And my life? And all!?

— You wouldn't miss it.

— Of course I would feel, it's my life!

— You wouldn't know about her.

Richard ground his teeth and struggled on the bench, causing his traveling companion to move away from him. He wanted - perhaps for the first time in his life - to strangle someone: Selina Kyle. Her arguments were valid, polite, grounded... but they didn't carry the emotional factor: she didn't miss Damian as much as he did.

— Your brother is very scared now, Dick — Sighed — Try to understand how terrifying it will be for him to know that the nightmares are real. — She looked at the front window and continued: — Besides, we don't know if the epileptic crises have passed, any stress can make them come back...

— Rachel can cure him of that too — The boy murmured surly, straightening up in the seat again.

— What if she can't? — Selina stared at him — What if it doesn't work? What if you only hurt your brother instead of helping him?

— What do you mean!? — Dick screamed and faced the "stepmother" — What do you know that I don't know!?

— I know the risks! — She looked at him — You think your friend will be able to cure him, but she is forgetting the consequences! Of her chances of failing! What can happen if she doesn't succeed!

He crossed his arms and lowered his head.

He was feeling so angry... so afraid.

Accepting that perhaps there was nothing he could do to advance Damian's return, besides waiting, was painful.

He wanted Damian back, no matter what.

Cost anything but the little Damian who was still alive.

— Maybe he was always afraid of being a Robin... — Selina said quietly, opening the car door — For a moment I thought you understood that, when you told me about the apartment. But now I understand that it was just a way to make your brother more accessible to that girl...

— It doesn't have to be her, the Mars Hunter could also...!

— **There are always risks** , Richard. — interrupted him — This is what your father and I want you to understand.

Dick even opened his mouth to try to argue, but failed. There are no arguments against the truth and Selina Kyle, unfortunately, used the most painful truths when she wanted to be heard.

She, feeling that she had done her duty, got out of the car and got into another one parked ahead. The vehicle seemed to have appeared there like magic, but it was only the heat of the discussion that kept it from being noticed - Lois arrived on time, as usual.

The boy stayed behind, alone in the car - defeated and frustrated.

There was now some action to be taken against their own plans: there would always be risks, and however small they were, they nevertheless meant a threat to Damian. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed the order of numbers he had been typing the most in the past few days.

— Kori, it's me... — He ran a hand over his face — I'm fine, it's just your impression. I... I called because I need to talk to you. I... — Sighed — I changed my mind about the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had already said, in the final note of Brothers (ch. 6), that Dick Grayson lost his memory and that, according to Batman, if he wants to start again without any link with the past, about being a Robin, maybe it is the better for him - in fact, he wished a good start.  
> He ended up losing his memory because he was shot in the head. Normally, when the brain is affected, the victim's personality changes, even if minimally. From a sensible, companion and amusing boy, Dick became an inconsequential, troublemaker, who joins the “less indicated” people on purpose, because he wants confusion and always wants to show that he doesn't care about the problems of others (he doesn't care about Barbara's pleas for him to come back or not be so "extreme", much less Bludhaven's problems...)  
> Despite becoming a more problematic version of Jason Todd, the sense of fairness and unfairness remains in place as he broke into a house to have a place to sleep, but repaid the property owners.  
> He also suffers from blackouts, which make him lose track of time and forget about where he was... it probably only worsens with the stress of being a taxi driver in Bludhaven (he was warned about the danger, but he wanted to confusion).  
> Spoiller: at the end of chapter 50 of Nightwing, he sets fire to a base of operations that had as a final act to forget the past. However, a team of policemen finds the place and, accepting that Bludhaven needed a hero, they decide to put on their costumes and go out against the crime. The Nightwing team catches Dick's attention due to their complete lack of preparation and forces him to help. I believe it will be a forced return!  
> Note to Note: Dick Grayson, without the memories, feels like a ghost. He wants so much to leave his old version "dead" that he doesn't even care about the name he is called by (everyone at the bar calls him in a different way - and as a driver, he is Burl).


	54. Reading

Dick practically jumped down the steps, up two at a time - sometimes even three at a time.  
He had arrived just over a minute ago, long enough to see Bruce Wayne with his elbows on the table, looking down, while Alfred tidied up the kitchen. It only meant one thing: he said what he shouldn't. At worst, he said what he shouldn't have done to Damian.  
So Richard broke into his younger brother's room, unsure if he had broken the door or simply used the doorknob. He only quieted down when he saw the little boy stretched out on the bed, calm, while Jason was leaning against the headboard reading aloud:  
— When she returned to where the Cheshire Cat was, she was surprised by the crowd around her: there was an argument between the executioner, the King and the Queen, all talking at the same time, while the rest remained silent, looking quite embarrassed — And, without changing the pleasant voice he was using when reading, Todd looked at Dick and said: — Almost as embarrassed as I am now, reading a children's book while being judged in silence...  
— This does not seem to be part of the story... — Damian commented, yawning shortly thereafter.  
— It is because it is not, Dami — Barbara said laughing, without taking her eyes off the drawings she was analyzing - she was sitting on the rug near the bed. — Do you want to sit and listen too, Dick?  
— No, no, I just came here because...  
Richard wasn't sure what to say. He assumed that Bruce had fought with Damian, that the little one would be scared and alone, that Jason was still sleeping without worrying about problems involving the "child" in the house. It would never have crossed his mind that he was taking care of Damian with Barbara and... Tim?  
— Because he saw Bruce sulking in the kitchen — Timothy muttered, he also looked like the father. He was the only one farthest away, sitting in the armchair while fiddling with the laptop.  
— ... I better go see if Mr. Pennyworth wants help or...  
— No way, brat! — Todd ran a hand through his little brother's hair — You stay here, without getting into the things of grown-ups.  
— But I'm already at the same height as Timothy's shoulders! — Damian said slyly, still hoping that he could do something for his father.  
— In return, waist-high for everyone else! — the second youngest replied, frowning even more.  
— Don't mind, Dami... I was shorter than Dick and Barbara too.  
— Realy? — the little one looked at his "favorite brother" with shining eyes — Do you think that one day I will be tall too? Like... taller than you?  
— You will even reach the secret cookie jar without needing a chair like certain little ones!  
— Shut up, Jason! — Drake demanded. He was irritated and his face was completely red, denouncing himself.  
— Hey, you two! No more fights for today! — Babs scolded them — Dick, will you stay by the door or will you want to hear Alice in Wonderland* too?  
— I... of course, of course I want to hear! — He smiled and sat next to her, she also wanted to see her little brother's drawings.  
Jason cleared his throat, ruffled his younger brother's hair again and continued reading, trying to circumvent the embarrassment he felt when reading to so many listeners:  
— The moment Alice appeared, she was called by the three to decide the issue. They repeated arguments, but, as they all spoke at the same time, she found it very difficult to understand exactly what they were saying — Her voice remained calm, probably due to the effects of the tranquilizer. — The executioner argued that one cannot cut a head unless it is not attached to a body. That he had never done such a thing in his life and it would not be this time that he would begin.  
Damian was visibly anxious. His love for animals made him instantly like the Cheshire Cat, making him apprehensive just to imagine his favorite character in that story being beheaded. Unlike the other books he picked up to read before going to sleep, this one in particular he couldn't remember the plot, he didn't know if the Cat would have a tragic ending.  
— The King argued that anything with a head could be beheaded, and that conversation was bullshit — Jason continued. Damian was tortured, keeping his reading calm and slow: — The Queen argued that if something was not done quickly, she would have everyone executed around — Yawned — That was what made everyone anxious, just like you, Dami...  
— Jay...! — the little one mumbled with dengo.  
Unlike the youngest in that room, anxious to continue reading, Barbara and Richard were concerned - despite disguising it. Damian's drawings have always had a morbid, monstrous touch, but those nightmare portraits surpassed all expectations.  
Disfigured, severed, dead creatures;  
Scary scenarios, even more than Gotham's barbaric crime scenes;  
Batman, present in almost every drawing, looked like a murderous monster.  
It was almost impossible to imagine that that sweet child that Damian was now could draw such things. The "almost" is due to the fact that all that was nothing but old, more frightening memories, but still memories of what he has already lived.  
— Alice found nothing better to say that "He belongs to the Duchess: it would be better to ask her about it." — again, Jason yawned — "She is in prison," the Queen said to the executioner. "Go get it." And the executioner shot like an arrow... — He got better on his bed, lying next to his younger brother. Damian could barely hold himself out of curiosity while Jason, tired, tried to keep his eyes open and continue reading.  
Before the rebel could finish the eighth chapter of the book - only a paragraph was missing - Bruce knocked softly on the door. It was open, but he still preferred to knock before entering.  
The kids looked at him with an inviting smile, except for Tim. The second youngest closed his laptop and left the room without even looking at his father, he was still very upset about everything.  
— I will go after him... — Dick warned while getting up, but Barbara pulled him by the hand to sit down again.  
— He needs a time alone — the older Wayne justified, finally entering the room. With that, the children continued to analyze the drawings while Jason resumed reading, controlling himself as best he could to not close his eyes and give himself up to sleep:  
— "I agree with you," said the Duchess, "and the moral of this is... 'Be what you seem to be' or, if you prefer to put it in a simpler way, 'Never imagine yourself different than you should appearing to others as what you were or could have been is no different than what you have been could have seemed to them to be different '”.  
— Jay, you didn't say what happened to Cheshire! — Damian grunted.  
— Alice in Wonderland — Bruce noticed with a small smile breaking out on his lips — I can't believe this book still exists... — He looked closely at the cover, it was one of those he had in his possession since he was a child — Will you allow me, Jason? — he asked, reaching out to pick up the book, after all, the son's inability to continue was clear.  
— Do what you want, old man... Just remember to show the figures to Dami — The rebel handed him the book.  
The older one kept his smile low. He pushed the armchair and placed it beside the bed so that it was closer to the children and then sat down. With a calm and kind air, he continued reading where Jason had stopped, at the end of the chapter:  
— The Cat's head started to disappear right the moment he left and by the time the executioner returned with the Duchess, he was completely gone. — He observed the youngest son, his green eyes shone — The King and the executioner started looking for him desperately everywhere, while the rest of the group returned to the game.  
Even Dick and Barbara stopped what they were doing to hear the story. They looked like children, maybe even more than Damian...  
— Now the ninth chapter — Bruce communicated — "You cannot imagine how happy I am to see you again, my dear," said the Duchess, touching Alice's arm affectionately, walking with her — She showed the picture the two characters for the children, all of them.  
— ... Damian, you should redo these illustrations, they are so ugly! — Jason murmured. He was fighting sleep to be able to hear the story too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In several comics, Jason Todd has been portrayed reading a good book. Perhaps the most famous is that red-haired panel reading Pride and Prejudice in the courtyard of a jail. In his first appearances as Robin, he was a redhead, it was nice to have him like that.  
> Damian has also been shown to read several times, so why not put this as a hobby of the two?  
> Note Note: I am in love with fairy tales. I know that Alice in Wonderland doesn't fit into that category, but it's also a book that I love! I love the Fantasy genre!  
> (*): in Brazil, the name of this story is "Alice no País das Maravilhas". I don't know what changes besides the name of the book, sorry for the possible mistakes.


	55. Extra

Listening to a conversation behind the door is common for curious children, nosy adults and creatures that have these two qualities, like Beast Boy. However, serious and responsible people, like Raven, do not do this kind of thing... or usually do not.

— You know, Raven, what you are doing is very ugly... — He started his sermon, trying to look as sensible as possible - inside, he was bouncing because he could scold his most responsable friend.

The friend in question just ignored him and continued with a glazed look, listening to the conversation inside Starfire's room. She saw when Nightwing arrived in the late afternoon - she wanted to ask about Selina, but he stopped at the door so he could hear the conversation.

— They may be preparing a surprise party for you, or worse: they may be having a DR! — Garfield commented in a low voice, approaching the door.

— ... It is much worse than a simple couple argument — she whispered.

Suspicious - and extremely curious - the green-skinned boy stuck his ear to the thick door and tried to listen to what was being said inside. He recognized those voices, which made understanding a lot easier:

— _And why does she act like that? We haven't done anything wrong! — Starfire seemed uncomfortable, worried, distressed... anything, except the serene and rational alien that used to be._

— _We haven't done anything **yet**... and we won't even do it! — Unlike his old girlfriend, Nightwing was resigned - which did not stop him from looking sad._

— _I should talk to her or your father, it is not right to give up without even trying. Rav...!_

— _No, there is no way to change B's mind, I already tried! — He interrupted her — I already tried to convince them several times, but I finally accepted: I can’t!_

— _How could they know if it works or not!?_

— _It has chances to work and chances of not work, Kori! — Now the man seemed irritated, dismayed. It was enough to take a deep breath for him to continue, now with a broken voice: — I... I had not thought about the possibility of him getting worse, but it is something real. It is better to just wait... wait for Dami to return to normal or... or try... get used to... with that._

— _... Dick, he'll be fine._

— _And if it doesn't be fine!? — The words were covered with bitterness — What if he is never a Robin again or remembers everything? If I have to keep lying to him for the rest of my life? And if it just gets worse and worse..._

Raven moved away from the door.

She knew perfectly well how Dick was feeling - not just because of his powers, everyone on the team felt bad about what happened to Damian. Staying there would only make her feel even more inefficient as a team partner, perhaps even more than Starfire did: she was the one who could best understand the peculiar way Robin acted with everyone, should have believed him.

Unlike his sensible friend, Beast Boy kept his ear to the door and his eyes wide, listening to every part he could of that conversation. He was content to learn from his sick friend by the news he received - he didn't think it was a good idea to visit Damian and end up being attacked by the boy - but he never imagined that he might be being deceived all the time.

— _Doctors can not do anything? If he doesn't want Raven close, maybe exams can...! — She was interrupted again with her boyfriend's quick words:_

— _After what happened, B doesn't want the kiddo with his feet out of the house: he's suspicious of everyone, even the League of Assassins. Not to mention that they have tried everything a little: exams, medicines, quick treatments. I think there was only a lack of shock treatment, if they haven't already tried — The boy sighed. Soon after, low noises like a muffled cry began._

— _You need to calm down._

— _He doesn't even know what happened, Kori! — Richard was truly desperate and, it seemed, was approaching the door — He forgets or else thinks they are just nightmares, understand how terrible it is!?_

— _I-I can imagine, but..._

— _And we can't even say anything because they won't let us! — The boy hit a punch against the thick metal door. He wanted to put an end to that conversation, put a stone on top of the subject and pretend that everything was perfectly fine, as everyone else was doing. However, the sweet alien prevented him from leaving like that:_

— _I'll get you some water. Then we'll talk more about it... let's find a solution._

At that moment, Beast Boy became a small fly and fled from there before being noticed. Unable to process everything he had heard, he went into the only place where he could ask for help: in Raven's room.

First it came in like a small fly; then he became a squirrel to climb the desk full of papers and try to get her attention - he received no attention because she was immersed in meditation; he became a dog and started to bark, resulting in an interrogative look from her friend; finally, he became a small elephant and barked.

— Say what you want or leave my room! — Raven demanded with her dark magic showing through her hands. I was annoyed.

Beast Boy finally returned to normal. He was waving his hands, his eyes were wide, he looked as if he had been attacked by a ghost. He decided to synthesize the attack of truths he had heard, but he became involved in his own words:

— Stuck at home! Shock treatment! He doesn't know what they're doing! Everyone's lying to Damian because he is crazy!

— ... Not.

— Raven, I heard you right! — In fact, he had heard perfectly well, but got it wrong: — If Damian keeps getting worse, they will try a shock treatment and if it doesn't work they will say it was just a nightmare!

— They wouldn't do that.

— Raven... — the green-skinned boy whined — Damian is annoying, but he is our friend. We should save him! — To complement the plea, he turned into a shaggy cat and tried to be as adorable as possible.

The witch looked away, raised her eyebrows and sighed. His meditation would be put aside to try to put a little judgment on his friend's hollow head:

— You heard what Dick said: "It has chances to work and chances of not work". — She was serious, unyielding. If Damian got worse, she didn't want to be the reason - she already felt guilty enough — Besides, Damian seemed fine... — She tried to sound optimistic.

— Were you with him!? — Garfield returned to human form and looked at her in surprise, speaking more idiocy: — Why were you with him and I was not!? I am much more his friend than you are, our rooms are next to each other!

— I would not say that this makes you best friends... — Again, she sighed and tried to maintain serenity. She needed to give a long explanation to answer the question and was hoping that the green-skinned guy would understand it at first: — A few days ago, Superboy invaded the tower with a woman practically dead. This woman...

— So it was Superboy who invaded here!? — Garfield interrupted her, it seemed desolate — I thought it was a simulation! Do you have any idea how fast I managed to put on my uniform!?

— Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to know that you are not always wearing something, even if you live with other people?

— You already knew that — He lifted his shoulders with an idiotic smile.

— Does not make it less inconvenient — She rolled her eyes and resumed, trying to at least maintain her education: — This woman is involved with Damian, Richard ... and their other life too. I didn't understand much, everything was dark and messed up, but I saw her saying goodbye to him. He looked...

— She said goodbye to him, like: knowing she was going to die?

— No, not like that. It just seemed... — She searched for the words — What was a mother saying goodbye to her son? I'm not sure, but it seemed like that... she likes him.

— You saved the life of that crazy sweeper from the League of Assassins!? You know she's a killer, right!? Like, Damian was also from this place and he's dangerous! — The boy tried to find a good way to base all his nervousness, but Raven interrupted her in time to avoid further mistakes:

— Not that, it was another woman.

— Raven... — Garfield shook his head from side to side, snapping his tongue at the roof of his mouth — We all know that Damian's mother is Rah's daughter, that crazy guy who looks like a goatee mummy, who sent the Damian's crazy cousin comes to kill him.

— It wasn't her! — She reaffirmed between his teeth — The name of this was Selina.

— ... How many mothers does Damian have? — He stared at his friend.

— Maybe it's his stepmother...

— You mean that Batman has a girlfriend? Batman? ... Like, Batman? Seriously? — Beastman even chuckled — He's Batman, he just has time to do his dark things of justice and fight crime, he doesn't have time to catch some kittens around.

— You know that everyone has a normal life sometimes, don't you?

— No way! — again, the boy let out his laughs — And I bet my underwear special edition of Dirt Rally that Batman is Batman 24/7. I just don't bet he sleeps in a coffin like a vampire because he doesn't sleep...

— ... Unnecessary information, Garfield — Rachel murmured between her teeth.

— What? That I think Batman is actually a vampire or something? It makes sense, look: Damian must have been turned into one... about 10 years old. Maybe even less! He explains his thirst for blood, liking the dark and recovering from broken bones so fast... — Incredibly, the boy seriously stated the data - as if he really believed it.

— ... No. — For the third time, Raven sighed — Are you finished? I want to go back to my meditation now.

— Meditation!? No way, let's go save Damian! — Taking advantage of the "hospitality" of the team friend, Garfield sat on top of her desk - crumpling up the papers and books he pushed into the corner — Think about it: this Selina was attacked and she was close to Damian, they may be wanting attack other people too!

Raven said absolutely nothing, she was busy controlling the sudden urge to strangle her naughty friend. However, it served as a “continue” in the eyes of the green-skinned boy:

— They are pretending that Damian is still in bad shape, the culprit must have believed that and now the job is ending! We need to help him before anything else happens!

— ... Enough.

— Raven, chances are he'll get worse, but chances are you'll be able to save him!

— I said that is enough.

— We can be next on the list! Or Starfire, the Nightwing... the world!

The girl remained silent.

He faced any point, meticulously analyzing all the nonsense he had heard. She wanted to be as confident as Beast Boy, but if they were dismissing her help, it was for good reason... not just resignation, it couldn't be just that.

— Raven, Damian... — He tried again — Remember when he came to ask for help because there was something bad going on, but that he could only talk to anyone who was willing to believe him? Remember?

— ... Nobody listened.

— Of course not, because he is a paranoid nut! And we were fighting with him! And, and... It is he who usually puts everyone in danger... — Gradually, the boy lost his excitement and looked down — ... And then he disappeared.

— And when he returned, he was... — Rachel just shook her head from side to side, trying to erase the memory.

— ... There is still time to save him this time — Garfield murmured finally leaving the desk and dragging his feet out of the room. His gaze was on the floor - he felt guilty.

No matter how small the possibility of helping Damian, it was a valuable chance for redemption for both of them.

Raven, as if she was not already bothered enough by so many heavy feelings she was feeling, still had to deal with the glimpse of meaning that Garfield's theory held: whoever made that attack, knew Damian well enough to know the best moment of attack; it could be anyone, because everyone had reasons to dislike him; close people were also being attacked, regardless of whether or not they were heroes, which only made accusing a guilty person even more dangerous.

She felt a shiver down her spine.

— ... It must be when Batman is out — Raven said softly when Beast Boy was about to close the door.

She was already beginning to regret what they would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a skin naturally tanned by the morning sun compared to the green skin of Garfield "Gar" Mark Logan, aka Garfield?  
> To summarize his story, which is much longer than the superficial part we know in cartoons:  
> As a child, Garfield was with his parents, geneticists, on a scientific trip in the Lamumba forest when he was bitten by a green monkey that transmitted the Sakutia disease - he was saved, but acquired the green skin and the power to transform into others animals.  
> Garfield's parents died in an accident years later and, motivated by the desire to be part of the Doom Patrol (team of heroes he admired), he invaded the headquarters and managed to impress the participants with his skills while trying to escape and then he helped them fight a dinosaur. It was adopted by the members and remained there for a few years, until the entire team was dead (sacrifice, combat, there are variations too).  
> From here on Gar's story begins to vary. Sometimes he joins the Titans of the West and, only after the team is disbanded, is he invited by Raven to be part of the Titans. Others, he abandons the Doom Patrol and joins the Titans to save Starfire from the Gordanians. The most recent, in Rebirth, he was aimless in life after the Teen Titans were undone and was kidnapped by Robin (Damian) while throwing a party in an abandoned house.  
> The really interesting part of Garfield's story is that he has had numerous losses in his life: his biological parents; adoptive parents; the teams to which it belonged. However, he disguises all internal conflict and sadness with his stupid jokes and constant good humor. There are rare times when he is sad - usually, in those moments, he becomes extremely vulnerable. However, as with many characters, this part of him is almost never really used. There are appearances of this weakness, as in chapter 18 of Teen Titans (Rebirth), but then everything is forgotten as if his playful way managed to hide from all the internal problems he has.  
> I believe they would do a great job addressing this using Raven, without necessarily using romance between the two (but if you have romance, great! I love this couple).


End file.
